Snowy Nights and Football Games
by whereistheark
Summary: The big game is on tonight: The Oakland Raiders face off against the Denver Broncos, and Stan and Kyle are not ones to miss a game, even if they can only watch on TV. Plans are made but quickly fall into disarray as snow piles up in Park county. Snowed in. Kyle discovers a secret of Stan's that he wasn't ready for. Implied Stan/Kyle in later chapters. Cover image drawn by me.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi guys, this is my very first South Park fanfiction. Rated T for language. Platonic relationship between Stan and Kyle. implied Stan/Kyle in later chapters. I hope you all like it and please leave feedback if you like it and want more. I will post the next chapter at 5 reviews.**

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"They are _totally _going to kick the Raiders' asses this Saturday!" retorted a voice.

"Is that a challenge I hear, Jewboy? Come on; don't be so quick to think the Broncos are actually going to win. It's on Oakland's turf this game."

"You shouldn't even live in Colorado if you don't believe in your own team, fatass!" A boy in a green Ushanka snapped at the overweight oaf standing next to him at the familiar bus stop. Fresh snow drifted down from the sky, landing gracefully on the four boys' winter capped heads.

"Come on Kyle, just ignore him. He's just trying to get under your skin." Stan groaned, looking tiredly at his best friend. Kenny mumbled something incoherent, and Cartman laughed. Kyle kicked at some overly frozen ice and grumbled inaudibly. The air was starting to thicken in an icy fog and began to surround the four fourth grade boys.

"Jesus Christ, where the hell is that damn bus driver, I'm freezing out hyah!"

_Cartman's ability to create his own words still astounds me, _Kyle sarcastically thought to himself.

The slow rumble of a school bus's wheels snapped Kyle out of his day dream. Stopping directly in front of the small orange coat wearing boy, the bus doors swung open. A waft of warm air taunted Kyle as he was about to board the bus.

"Out of my way, fag!" Cartman shoved Kyle aside roughly, pushing his way through the crowd of students that had already remained on the bus. Kyle was about to retort when Stan grabbed the red-head's arm.

"C'mon, Kyle. Let's go." The boy sighed, not wanting to argue with his friend. Kenny trailed loosely behind, entering just in time before the bus doors snapped shut behind him. Kyle followed Stan to an empty spot, and the two sat in the uncomfortable plastic seat.

Pushing Cartman's crude comments out of his mind, Kyle attempted a conversation with his friend. "So Stan, are you up for watching the Bronco's game with me this Saturday? My parents are going out that day with some friends and leaving Ike with a babysitter. I don't wanna be all alone either without someone cheering with me." He looked hopefully at his pal, waiting for an answer.

"Sure dude, as I recall my parents are actually going with your family to watch the game."

"Oh that's right, duh." Kyle rubbed the back of his neck. "I already asked my parents last night if you could come," he smiled. "You can bring whatever you like."

Stan grinned back at his red haired friend.

"What are you two fags gossiping about?"

Cartman's irritating voice made Kyle jump. He hovered over the duo of friends with evident curiosity on his face.

Kyle sighed and mustered a response. "Stan and I are gonna watch the Bronco's game this Saturday."

Cartman's face lit up in false excitement. "Ohhh, you two gonna make out for a while? Gonna watch the Donkey's _lose _to the Raiders?" he pinched the Jew's cheek in a provoking manner. Kyle cringed and bit his lip.

"Shut up, fatass, you're just jealous because we are going for the winning team." Stan rolled his eyes and stared out the bus window, fogging the pane with his exhaled breath. He drew a face in the condensation with his gloved finger, and then turned back to Cartman.

"Then it's a bet, Cartman. I bet you _five _dollars that the Bronco's totally kick the Raiders into the dirt."

Cartman scoffed. "Make it _ten _dollars, fag!" he stuck a fat gloved finger in the raven haired boy's face. Stan inched back in his seat and pushed the fat boy's finger away. "You're on, dude! Ten dollars say that the Raiders lose!"

"That's ten more dollars I have in my pocket when the _Broncos_ lose_!" _

The two boys rabbled on until an angry voice broke in to stop the conflict.

"ERIC! Turn around and sit in your seat properly!" the bus driver shouted at the chubby boy. Cartman's face screwed up in annoyance. He grumbled and sat in the seat, shifting a little. "Meeh…mm-meh…" he whined, crossing his arms.

"SHUT UP FATASS!" Kyle, Kenny, and Stan shouted in unison.

* * *

Kyle stuck out his tongue as his pencil scribbled fluently across the quiz page. The sound of scratching led meeting paper filled the room. The boy could feel someone staring at him from behind but tried to ignore the watched feeling. He could see Cartman from the corner of his eye, looking at his paper over his shoulder.

"God damn it, Cartman!" Kyle finally snapped, jolting the class out of a concentrated trance.

"Kyle!" Mr. Garrison looked up from reading a newspaper at his desk and fixated his eyes on the Jew boy.

"Mr. Garrison, tell Cartman to stop cheating off of me!" Kyle indicted, pointing a shaky finger at the accused boy.

"Jesus Christ, I just want to get through this Friday without anyone ruining it…" mumbled the annoyed teacher, ignoring the boy's accusations. Kyle huffed, shooting a daggered look at Cartman. The fat boy stuck out his tongue and returned the irritated look with defiance.

"Alright children, let's all turn our quizzes in now, class is almost over." Mr. Garrison flipped a page in his newspaper and propped his feet up on his desk. Kyle scribbled the last two answers on his quiz and rushed up to the front of the class to turn his work in.

"Here Mr. Garrison." he placed the paper neatly on the desk in front of him. The bell rang and all the students rushed out the door with an excited cheer, with the day finally being over. Kyle always left the class a little later than the other students.

Kyle met up with Stan at his locker.

"Hey dude," Kyle greeted his friend as he shut his locker. "Can I stay over tonight?"

"Sure, I'm sure my mom won't mind if you do. Just walk home with me." Stan smiled, and Kyle returned the gesture. The two friends walked down the hall and outside into the cold Colorado air. Stan shivered.

"Dude, no matter how long I've lived here, I have never gotten used to the cold." He frowned, kicking some stray snow on the ground.

"Same." Was all Kyle could say, as he looked up at the bleak, dark sky above. "My mom says that there is going to be a storm tonight… it's going into tomorrow too. I'm hoping the power will be safe, so we get to watch the game." Kyle sighed, his breath showing as a cloud in the frigid air.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys, I couldn't wait for 5 reviews to put up the next chapter. But I'm hoping that you all like this one. (psst if you squint hard enough there is slight Style and more to come if I feel like it). Next chapter will be uploaded at 6 reviews.**

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By the time to two friends arrived at Stan's house, the air was already swirling with cold snow, and the wind blew it around making it hard to see. The two shivered violently as they entered the house, and dusted off their winter jackets. Kyle shrugged off the last bit of snow from his shoulder and frowned, rubbing his arms for warmth. Stan shut the door tightly, and a few stray flakes of snow still managed to drift inside.

"Mom, I'm home!" Stan shouted to whoever would hear. He tossed his backpack on the floor and kicked off his boots. "I brought Kyle with me too, if that's fine!"

Stan's mother came out of the kitchen.

"Oh no you don't mister," she frowned, clearly irritated. She pointed to the mud-and-snow combination boots on the floor, which had already created a puddle where they had been thrown. "Those need to be in the garage. And the back pack upstairs in your bedroom."

She noticed Kyle and smiled. "Hello sweetie. Make yourself at home. I'll call your mother and let her know you're here."

Kyle returned her smile politely. "Thanks Mrs. Marsh. I know my mom will be worried sick if she doesn't know I'm here."

Stan grumbled and proceeded to carry out his mother's requests. After the chores were taken care of, Kyle followed Stan to his room. "Why do you have to be such a suck up, dude…?" Stan complained as he threw himself on the bed. Kyle blinked.

"Whatcha mean?" he inquired, looking at his friend. He cocked his head to one side.

Stan shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Never mind… it was a rhetorical question." he grumbled.

Suddenly a few short raps sounded on the bedroom door. "Kyle, I'm here to bring you some clothes, bubbie." a hard Jersey accent said beyond the closed door. Kyle's mother stood in the threshold as she opened the door.

"Kyle, bubbie. The blizzard outside is getting worse by the minute. You may have to stay here at Stan's house instead of him meeting you at ours." The boy's mother patted her son on the head. Kyle grumbled at her motherly gesture.

"Ok mom. That's fine. Did you at least bring my Denver Bronco's shirt?" Kyle looked up at her expectantly.

"Yes I did hun." She pulled out the requested shirt from the duffel bag and showed it to him.

"Sweet! Thanks mom." Kyle smiled at his mother.

"No problem, sweetie. Now I'll go tell Sharon about the new arrangement and I'm sure she'll be ok with it." Sheila handed her son the bag. "Now you two have fun and don't stay up too late." And with that said, she left the room. She shut the door behind her.

Stan suddenly began to fidget nervously and sighed.

_Clearly something is on his mind._ Thought Kyle as his friend looked around the room, occasionally glancing at a drawer by his bed. It had only been about a month since the two friends had gotten together again just by themselves, everything slowly piecing back to how it was before Stan's cynical phase.

"Stan? You alright, dude?" Kyle placed a hand on his friend's shoulder in comfort, which made the raven-haired boy jolt back to reality.

"Y-yeah, sorry. I was just thinking of something." Stan blinked as his vision refocused.

Stan couldn't let himself be dragged into… that… again. For Kyle. Things were finally looking up for him again, hell, he was with his best friend, alone for the night, watching the Broncos game. Life couldn't get any better than this.

Stan took off his winter coat, and pulled on a Denver Broncos hoodie in place of it. It was gray with the logo on the front, with the words "Denver Broncos" underneath. Nice and warm.

"Hey, I'm going to make some hot coco, you want some?" Stan offered, turning towards the door.

"Sure, that sounds great." Kyle answered, smiling. "I'm going to change into my Broncos shirt while you do that, if that's alright."

"Sure."

Stan left the room and closed the door behind him so Kyle could change.

Kyle slipped on his favorite Denver Broncos shirt and smoothed it out. It was his lucky shirt, and by tradition he always wore it when a Broncos game was on. He then pulled on his jacket for more warmth, but kept it unzipped.

Kyle turned his attention to Stan's bedside table, a drawer slightly ajar. He frowned. Stan had been glancing at it earlier. Worry clouded Kyle's mind, the thoughts swirling in his brain.

_No, he wouldn't still have it. Kyle's conscious echoed, but in his right mind he knew something was wrong._

Glancing at Stan's closed door and listening for footsteps, Kyle crept closer to the bedside table. He peeked into the open drawer, some t-shirts covering a cylindrical shape. Kyle furrowed his brows.

_No_.

He moved the shirts away, revealing a bottle. "Jameson" was written on the label, and the glass was stained green and gave off a sheen in the bedside lamp light.

_Stan, please tell me you still haven't been doing this to yourself._

A knock on the door.

"Kyle?" came a voice. "My parents and your mom just left for the game. You almost done in there, dude?"

"U-uhh, yeah, just give me a second!" Kyle replied back, hastily shoving the bottle back into the drawer.

_I can't let Stan do this to himself anymore. After the game I'll confront him about it._

Kyle left the drawer like it was and proceeded to open the door. Stan stood in the threshold, holding two mugs of hot coco. "Here you go, dude." Stan smiled, handing Kyle the hot beverage.

"Thanks." Kyle returned the smile. He shrugged off what he just saw in the drawer and put on a worry-free attitude.

"Now let's go watch that game, huh?" Stan grinned, halfway down the stairs.

Kyle followed after his friend.

"I made popcorn too." Stan sat a tub of popcorn down on the couch. He plopped next to it and switched on the TV, browsing through the channels for the correct station. Kyle sat next to him, popping a piece of popcorn in his mouth.

"We're going to be ten dollars richer tomorrow, Stan. Cartman's going to cough it up big time." Kyle broke the ice as Stan was clicking quickly through the many channels.

"Oh yeah, dude. He's going to eat his words. That stupid fat ass doesn't know what he's talking about when he says the Broncos will lose."

"Finally," Stan sighed. "Found the channel."

There was a click as the TV shut itself off.

"Shit…" Stan cursed, pressing the on and off button on the remote. Then the entire house shut down. The lights flickered once before everything was swallowed into blackness.

Stan and Kyle both groaned in annoyance. Stan hopped off of the couch and drew back the curtains and peered outside. "Dude, it's a total white out. Come check it out."

Kyle removed himself from the couch and stood beside Stan. "Dude, you're totally right."

The wind howled as snow swirled helplessly about.

"I'm going to go find a flashlight or some candles. Do you have your iPhone?" Stan asked, and Kyle nodded. He pulled it out of his jacket pocket and pressed the button, illuminating the room a little. The home lock screen was of a picture of him and Stan, grinning and sitting at a table at their favorite restaurant, Casa Bonita. It was Kyle's birthday at the time (well, the aftermath, after Cartman ruined it, just Stan and Kyle went the next day trying to make up for it), and that was almost a year ago.

The shadows played on Stan's face and he smiled. "You still have that picture as your background, dude?" he laughed a little, punching Kyle playfully on the arm.

"It's my favorite picture, man."

Stan's smile grew wider. "Mine too."

Stan moved off to find some candles and a flashlight, opening every drawer in the kitchen until there was an "Ahah!".

He pulled out a lighter and several tea light candles, setting them around the coffee table in front of the couch. He lit them one by one; the dancing flames making everything look eerie.

"Couldn't find a flashlight, but these'll do." Stan explained, lighting the last candle.

"Well, guess we won't find out who wins until tomorrow." Kyle slumped disappointedly down onto the couch, resting his hand on his chin. Stan plopped down next to him.

"It's alright, buddy. Maybe the power will come back on. We just gotta wait it out."

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**Hope you all liked this one. Please leave a review if you liked and want more. It helps me gain the motivation to write more chapters. Every review helps. Thanks for reading.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys, sorry for the short chapter this time. I didn't know where to go with this and I'm trying to add as much detail as I can into this story, but this one just ended up short. There's more dialogue so I didn't get to add as much detail as I normally do.**

** I'll post a new chapter in the next couple days unless it get a few more reviews soon. I'm revising and editing the next chapter now, so it should be done soon. **

**Please leave a review if you liked it, it helps me post more chapters and gives me the motivation to write more. Thanks and enjoy. **

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It had been two hours. The power still hadn't come back on. It was darker outside now, opposed to earlier when the sun was just creeping its way behind the Colorado snowcapped mountains. Stan and Kyle sat playing a board game by candle light.

"Sorry, move back to home square," Kyle said, booting Stan's pawn off the board. "That's the third time in the last few turns."

"You're good at this game, dude." Stan complemented, and Kyle smiled.

"I have family game night every Wednesday with my parents and Ike. We play this game all the time. I wish we had other games. This one gets boring quickly."

"We can play a different one afterward," Stan offered. "We have lots more."

"Okay," Kyle answered. "You can pick this time."

Realization hit Kyle like a speeding car. "Shit, I was supposed to call my mom over an hour ago!"

Kyle fished out his phone from his jacket pocket, and speed dialed the number.

"Hey mom, it's Kyle."

There was incoherent rambling that Stan could hear but only made out a few words that sounded like "_We were worried sick about you!_"

"Yes, we're fine." Kyle rolled his eyes. "The power went out two hours ago. Sorry, my phone was on silent, so no, I didn't see your calls."

After a short 'I was so worried about you two' spiel, Kyle hung up the phone.

"The game's probably over by now, dude." Kyle sighed, removing himself from the floor and plopping down on the couch. Stan did the same. "And I'm getting tired."

"Same." Stan answered.

Kyle's eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into the arm of the chair, resting on his arm. Stan leaned back in his spot, making sure he didn't fall into Kyle. "So tired…" Stan yawned, and with that, he fell asleep.

* * *

Stan had slumped over and was sleeping on Kyle's shoulder, and Kyle was sleeping on his arms leaning up against the arm of the couch.

Kyle's eyes fluttered open as he felt a weight on his shoulder.

"Stan, wake up," Kyle nudged his friend off of him carefully. "What time is it? It looks so dark out…"

Stan sat up. "W-what…" he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

Kyle picked up his phone and peered at the digital timestamp. "Dude, it's one in the morning. Our parents were supposed to be home hours ago. Oh, I got a missed call…" He clicked the voicemail and began listening to it.

The speaker blared "_KYLE, LEARN TO ANSWER YOUR PHONE! YOU'LL ANSWER IT IN A HEARBEAT IF STAN CALLS, BUT NOT YOUR OWN MOTHER!_"

Kyle flushed red, holding the phone a few inches away from his ear.

"_Anyway, bubbie, we will be staying at a hotel for the night. There's seven feet of snow out there and it's still coming down. Call me back when you get this message_."

And with that, Kyle began to call his mother. "God, I'm going to get it now… that message was left over an hour ago…"

"_KYLE! You're father and I were worried sick!_"

"I'm sorry mom, Stan and I fell asleep and-"

There was incoherent rambling on the other line.

"Yes, everything's fine." Kyle sighed. "We will be fine for another day, we promise."

There was silence, and then something that sounded like an "_Okay_" on the other line.

Kyle hung up.

"God, she worries too much."

"What do you wanna do now?"

Kyle shrugged.

His mind wondered back to the thing he saw in Stan's bedside drawer, and he thought this may be the perfect time to ask about it, though he was nervous to question.

Stan jadedly picked at a thread in the carpet and some stray dirt that lay about. "I'm still pretty tired, dude. But I don't want to sleep."

"Yeah, same… there's not much we can do, really. Except for just… talk."

_Just get this over with. I have to confront him about it sometime._

"Stan, have you been drinking again?" Kyle blurted out.

There was a short silence, and Stan's expression contorted in the dancing flames of the candles. He sighed.

"You saw it, didn't you…?" Stan uttered, his voice barely a whisper.

"Look, Kyle, it's just… it helps me deal with things…" Stan started again after a few agonizing seconds.

"Deal with things? You're only ten years old, Stan!" Kyle snapped. "What are you dealing with, then?"

"Just things, Kyle."

"_Like what?_" Kyle emphasized the words.

"I can't tell you."

"Then I fucking give up."

"If I told you, you would hate me."

"God damn it, Stan! Stop playing games! You can't do this to yourself!"

"Says who?"

"Says me! You are my best friend, dude. I can't see you spiral again!"

Stan gave up the fight and looked down at his feet. Suddenly his shoe laces were more interesting. He picked at a loose thread in one. He shifted in the couch and sighed heavily.

"Promise you won't laugh, Kyle?"

"Laugh about what, Stan?"

"I'm going to tell you a secret."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys, I was going to wait until tomorrow to post this chapter, but since I'm nice, I decided to post it today. I'm finishing up chapter 5 right now, it will most likely be posted on Monday, tomorrow if I'm lucky enough to finish it. Hope you all like this one, please review if you did, it helps a lot. Thanks and enjoy.**

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"A secret that's bigger than the one you were just keeping from me?" Kyle crossed his arms and looked at Stan solemnly. Stan shrugged.

The silence was broke when Kyle's phone rang.

"Hello? Mom?" he answered. There was a short pause and Kyle frowned. He held a hand up to the receiver and whispered to Stan what he had just heard.

"My mom says they are snowed in and had to get a hotel. They don't know when they will be back."

Kyle removed his hand from the receiver. "It's fine. No, we are fine. Power's still out, though. Well, that's good. At least the power didn't go out where you guys are. How was the game, anyway? I didn't get a chance to ask. Broncos won? Sweet! That's ten dollars for- I mean, we won a bet with Cartman."

Kyle hung up after a while and turned back to Stan.

"So we won ten dollars?" Stan asked.

"Yeah. Cartman's not going to be happy."

Stan shifted a little.

"What did you want to tell me, Stan?"

"I don't know."

"Stan…"

_What could it possibly be that led him to start drinking again? Or has he lied that he quit? Either way it has to be troublesome. _

Silence.

The wall clock ticked in the background. Kyle couldn't stand the silence. His mind was swirling with thoughts and worry. He didn't like being alone with his contemplations for this long.

"Stan, please just tell me."

Stan whispered something incoherent, and Kyle sighed.

"Stan, just fucking tell me! You can't go on like this!"

"It's not the right time, Kyle."

"And why the fuck do you say that? We are snowed in, can't go anywhere, and you're telling me it's 'not the right time'?"

"It's just not, Kyle. I thought I was ready but for you to yell and cuss at me makes it harder to say. If I say it now, I'm afraid you will act worse when I do say it."

The two sat in silence.

Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed softly.

"I'm sorry, Stan."

"I can't tell you yet, Kyle. Please understand. Please don't make me tell you yet. I promise I'll tell you one day, but right now is not the time."

_What the fuck could it possibly be?_

Kyle drew in a breath and exhaled softly.

"Just… promise me one thing, Stan."

"What, Kyle?"

"That you won't drink. Please, for me?" Kyle looked hopefully into his friend's eyes. He couldn't read Stan's expression.

"Stan…"

"I don't know if I can promise anything right now, Kyle."

Kyle sighed heavily. "Then we aren't ready to be friends again." Kyle got up and walked off. He didn't know where to go, so he walked up to the front door and opened it. The blizzard outside cast whirling snow into the house, tossing heavy snowflakes into the room. The chill had to be below zero.

"Kyle, wait! You'll freeze out there!"

Kyle looked back at his friend. He shut the door tight before any more snow could drift in.

"Please, Kyle. I don't think it's time yet. You'll just have to trust me on this one."

Kyle walked back to Stan.

"Do I have to play a guessing game with you, Stan? Is that what you want?"

"No!"

"I'm just really worried about you."

"Well, don't be!"

"That doesn't reassure me at all."

"Kyle, can we just drop it for the night? I don't want to do this anymore right now. Please?"

"No, Stan! You are worrying me too much. I'm worried that if I fall asleep, you will start drinking and I will have to call your mom and dad and tell them about it. If you don't tell me now, I'll walk out that fucking door and it's over. I can't have a friend who will do this kind of bullshit! If you can't tell me things any more, and trust me to-"

"I like you more than just a friend, alright! Jesus Christ, are you happy now?" Stan got up and bolted up the stairs, almost tripping up them, slamming a door. There was a click, and then silence.

Kyle sat in shock. No, it wasn't shock, it was _curiosity_. That was the correct word. He just didn't know it was _this_ secret. Kyle, in his own mind, knew something was up. After admitting to Kyle in his cynical phase, he thought it was just a drunken state that had shrouded his mind and made him defenseless.

_What?_

He sat for another ten minutes, recuperating, before slipping off the couch. He made his way up the stairs by the way of his iPhone screen, illuminating a pathway down the dark corridor.

Kyle knocked on the door to Stan's room.

"Stan?" he called quietly, hesitantly.

"Go away!"

"Please let me in, Stan." Kyle tried to turn the doorknob, but it wouldn't budge. Locked.

"I said go away!"

Kyle heard a banging noise, and after a few seconds, it stopped.

Kyle began to worry.

The lock turned, and after a short while, the door opened slightly with a creak.

"Stan?"

"What."

"Can I come in?"

"What the fuck do you think I opened the door for?"

Kyle swallowed, and, mustering his strength, pushed the door open.

What he saw was a sight for sore eyes.

"You hate me, don't you…" Stan said quietly, his hair in disarray under his hat, a few tufts sticking out from underneath, and Kyle thought he saw blood rolling down his forehead. "It's okay; you have a reason to hate me…"

Kyle's mouth felt dry. He swallowed.

"Hate you?"

"Hate me."

"Why would I hate you?"

"Because I told you my secret."

"Stan…"

Kyle scooted closer to Stan, who was on the floor now, his hands in his face.

He looked up at Kyle with glazed over eyes. Blood smeared his forehead.

"What did you do to yourself…?" Kyle said, pushing Stan's raven hair out of his face.

"I deserve it…"

Kyle could feel a bump on Stan's forehead now.

"Is that what that banging was?"

"You told me not to drink, so I didn't."

Kyle took Stan's hands and peered at them in the dark, and Stan jerked back a little. They were smeared with blood.

"Don't do this to yourself, either. Don't hurt yourself over this."

"But I deserve it."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because I like you… more than just a friend."

It seemed like it pained Stan to say those words, and it pained Kyle to see him hurt like this.

Kyle swallowed. He didn't know how to react to those words. He didn't know how he himself felt about the situation. Thinking back to Stan's cynical phase, he thought Stan was just… drunk. And he was. But actually admitting it to him without being in a drunken state of mind was a different story. Kyle thought it was just the alcohol talking that day, but now he wasn't so sure.

"_Kyle, I love you." _The words echoed in his mind.

All Kyle wanted was to see his friend happy, to see him safe. He was willing to do anything to keep him from hurting himself again. If it had to be more than friends with Stan, then he would do it.

He thought he had seen a change for the good in Stan a week ago, but it all fell quickly when he burst out in class, screaming at Butters because he and Cartman were arguing about who would win the Denver Broncos Vrs. Baltimore Ravens football game.

"Stan, I…"

"What, Kyle." Stan looked at Kyle through bleary eyes.

"I like you more as a friend, too."

It was hard to say, but he needed to do it, for the sake of Stan. For the risk of losing him. Losing him to the alcohol. Losing him as a friend.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys, back with another chapter. I have up to 8 chapters written right now, but I'll space them out unless I get more reviews. Thank you all for the reviews, they help a lot. You are all kind with your inputs. If you liked, please review. Thanks for sticking with me on this one. More to come. **

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Ch 5

Once the power came back on, Kyle helped patch Stan up.

"Promise you won't hurt yourself again… in any way." Kyle frowned, cleaning up the blood from Stan's forehead.

Stan didn't respond, only looking down at the tiled floor of the kitchen. They sat at the dining room table, Kyle dabbing a wet washcloth to clear the blood away.

"You just said that to pity me."

Kyle looked up at his friend.

"No, I didn't."

Kyle didn't know how he was feeling about the situation, in truth. He didn't want to see Stan hurt. He was his best friend.

"Uhh, there." Kyle said, dabbing the last of the blood from Stan's forehead.

"You just said that to make me stop."

Kyle fell silent.

_That's somewhat true._ He hated to admit that.

"You're with Wendy, Stan." Kyle's thoughts made themselves vocal, and he tried to stop them from escaping, but failed.

Stan was silent.

Stan pulled his hat back on and moved off of the wooden chair he was seated on.

"You can just say no, Kyle."

"Stan, I said I had the same feelings for you."

"I can read you like an open book, Kyle. You are very easy to read. You don't have to lie. It makes things worse."

Stan moved to the living room, plopping down on the couch.

"I'm not lying, Stan."

Kyle sat next to him, and grabbed his hand.

"You're my best friend, Stan. And if you want to be more than that, we can try. I'll do it. I don't care what Cartman thinks, or Kenny thinks, or even Wendy thinks. I don't care about what anyone thinks."

_You're doing this so he won't hurt himself anymore._

_No, I'm not._

_Admit it, you are. _

"How long have you felt this way, Stan?" Kyle inquired, pushing his negative thoughts to the side.

Stan continued to look down.

"A long time."

It seemed the words were hard to grasp for him, like he didn't want to believe them himself.

"It's not right." Stan whispered, hopping off of the couch, and began pacing the room.

Kyle frowned.

Kyle walked up to his friend and wrapped his arms around him.

"Like I said, we can try."

* * *

It was Monday. All sore feelings between Stan and Kyle had evaporated.

The two boys stood at the bus stop as Cartman and Kenny strolled up beside them. The snow was still on the ground, iced over and slick. It crunched under their feet.

"What's going on, fags?"

"Shut up, Cartman." Kyle retorted.

"You owe us ten dollars, fat ass." Stan said, holding out his outstretched arm and beckoned for the money to be put in his hand.

"Nuh uh. It doesn't count since the power went out."

"Yes it does fat ass, now cough up the money."

"Fuck you guys." Cartman growled, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a ten.

"I just got this ten too." Cartman grumbled.

"Learn not to make bets then, retard!" Kyle retorted.

"What the hell happened to your forehead, Stan?" Cartman asked, raising an eyebrow. The raven-haired boy didn't reply so Kyle took over.

"He had a little mishap and uhh… fell down the stairs."

Cartman laughed. It was that irritating laugh that could make your ears bleed. "Hahahaha! You're so dumb, dude!"

Stan didn't bother retorting, and this annoyed Cartman. He grumbled and then fell silent.

The four boys stood in silence as the bus rolled up to the stop. The snow crunched underneath the wheels.

They boarded the bus and made their way to their usual seats.

Stan and Kyle sat next to each other and Kenny and Cartman sat adjacent.

"I wish we had a snowday today, dude. We could have spent more time together." Kyle whispered to Stan.

"Yea." Was all Stan said.

His head was throbbing painfully, and his hat barely covered the large bruise on his forehead. He wanted to put a bandage on it, but that would just look stupid.

Kyle inched closer.

"I know it's only Monday, but do you want to hang out again this weekend?"

"Y-yeah… that'd be awesome, dude." Stan replied, smiling a little.

"You okay, dude?"

"Yeah, my head just hurts a little."

Kyle nudged him and offered his hand. Stan took it hesitantly. He made it so no one could see them holding hands. He didn't want any drama between Cartman or anyone else.

The bus rolled to a stop in front of the elementary school. Students got off and some got on. Stan and Kyle walked to the front as Kenny and Cartman trailed behind. Kyle quickly let go of Stan's hand.

* * *

Kyle met Stan at his locker after he had collected his books from his own.

"How's your head feeling?" Kyle asked his friend, peering at it for a moment.

"Still hurts like hell…"

"What did you tell your parents when they saw the bruise?"

"They didn't notice." Stan said plainly.

"It's not exactly invisible, dude."

"Well, sometimes _I_ feel invisible."

Kyle frowned. He made sure no one was looking and reached over and grabbed Stan's hand. It felt awkward and forced.

Stan smiled slightly. Kyle hated his friend looking this miserable.

Stan closed his locker with his free hand. He jumped when he saw Wendy standing behind it.

"W-Wendy, hey."

Kyle quickly pulled his hand away and dropped his books to distract Wendy.

"Oops, a little clumsy today, heheh…"

He picked them up and started to head to class.

"See you in a little, Kyle. I'll be right there."

Kyle nodded and entered the classroom.

"Were you holding Kyle's hand, Stan?"

"What? No!"

"I just saw you two. What happened to your forehead?"

"I fell down the stairs."

"You 'fell down the stairs'?"

"Yeah, when the blackout happened, I was walking up the stairs and-"

"You just told me you fell _down_ the stairs."

"I did?"

Wendy shut her own locker and lifted an eyebrow.

"Stan, are you lying to me again? Why were you holding hands with Kyle?"

"He was handing me something."

"Handing you what?"

"Handing me some lunch money. I don't have any for today."

_Smooth. _

The bell rang, reverberating down the silent halls. All of the rest of the students had gone to class. Stan and Wendy were the only ones in the hall.

"Let's go, we're late." Stan said, avoiding the question. He wanted Wendy out of this and anyone else if possible. Especially Wendy and Cartman.

* * *

Stan sat in his usual seat next to Kyle and Mr. Garrison watched him as he made his way to his seat.

"Stan, how nice of your to join us. You're late."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Is there a reason?"

"I was talking to Wendy."

Mr. Garrison looked from Wendy to Stan.

"Alright…" He drew out the word slowly.

"Well, would you like to explain to me these problems on the board, Wendy?"

Everything was drowned out as Mr. Garrison droned on about math and the importance of it, and Stan zoned out. His head was throbbing worse now, and he felt like he needed to pass out. Stan couldn't take it anymore. He needed to talk to someone about this.

"Mr. Garrison, may I go to the counselor's office?" Stan asked, interrupting his teacher in the middle of a lecture.

He stopped midsentence.

"Yes, Stanley, go on ahead."

Kyle looked helplessly at his friend as he walked out the door.

* * *

"Mr. Mackey, Can I talk to you?" Stan opened the door when a short "yes, mkaay" was heard.

"Oh, Stan, come one in. Haven't seen you in a few weeks."

"Yeah."

"How are you doing?"

"How do you think? I wouldn't be in here if I felt ok."

"Mkaay… tell me how you're feeling."

Stan lifted off his hat, showing Mr. Mackey the bruise on his forehead. Mr. Mackey frowned.

"How did this happen, Stanley?"

"Me."

"You what?"

"_I_ did it."

"You did this to yourself? Mkaay… hold on a second…"

Mr. Mackey picked up the phone on his desk and proceeded to call someone. He turned and faced away from Stan.

"Yes, nurse, this is Mr. Mackey down at the school counselor's office, mkaay… I have Stan Marsh here, he says he hurt his head, he won't tell me why, I just need you to come down and check it out for me. Mkaay, thank you."

Mr. Mackey hung up the phone.

"When the nurse gets here, I need you to tell her what happened."

"'Kay."

Stan and Mr. Mackey sat in silence as the fan whirred in the corner of the room. Stan looked down and started to count how many tiles there were on the ground. He got to thirty when the nurse walked in.

"Hi, Stanley. I'm the school nurse. What can I help you with?"

"I hurt my head."

"I see… how did you hurt your head?"

"_I_ hurt my head." Stan emphasized the "I".

"Did you do it on purpose, Stanley?"

"Yes."

"Why did you do it?"

"Because I deserved it."

The nurse beckoned Stan to take off his hat so she could take a better look. After a short while, the nurse frowned.

"We need to call your parents about this."

"No! Please don't!"

"I'm sorry, Stanley, this has to be reported."

"I'll tell you why, just please don't tell anyone else. It's important that my parents don't know."


	6. Chapter 6

**Back with another chapter. Hope you all like this one. Please review if you liked it, it helps me get motivated to write more chapters. I appreciate all of your guys' reviews, you have all been so nice. Thanks again. **

* * *

Ch 6

"I've been… drinking lately." Stan admitted after a few agonizing moments.

There was silence for a few seconds before Mr. Mackey spoke.

"Is there any particular reason you've been doing it, Stanley?"

"Yeah… there's one reason."

"And what's that?" asked the school nurse.

"I like someone. Like, as in I have a crush. I guess it's a crush. I really don't know."

"Who is it? And why is this troubling you so badly, mkaay?" asked Mr. Mackey.

"It's…" Stan paused, a lump in his throat.

"My friend, Kyle." He drew out the words, burying his face in his hands.

"I don't know why I feel this way," Stan began again when no one else spoke. "I just… do. And I hate it. It's not normal. I'm with Wendy, but I've never actually liked her in any way besides a friend. I tried liking her more than a friend. I really did. I just wanted to be normal, like all the other boys. The thought of kissing her makes me want to throw up. And I told Kyle my feelings… I don't think he's cool with it. I've known him long enough to know when he is lying, or avoiding telling his thoughts. He just pities me."

"And that's also why I hurt myself…"

The school nurse took a look at Stan's forehead again.

"I'm sorry Stanley; we have to report this to your parents." She said.

"No, please! I don't want them to know! I've been so good at keeping it a secret… I should have never come here in the first place!" Stan hopped up from his chair and began walking towards the door. Mr. Mackey blocked it.

"I can't let you leave, Stanley."

"Please don't tell them… please… I feel so much better once I told someone; just let me go back to class…" Stan lied. He _didn't _feel any better. He felt terrible. Worse, if anything.

Tears began to well in Stan's eyes.

"Please just let me go."

After a few moments, Mr. Mackey moved away from the door.

"Alright, Stanley. I'll let you go for now. Come into my office after school. I want to talk to you more. I don't want you to miss any more class time, mkaay? It's already been half an hour."

Stan nodded, turning towards the door.

"And one more thing, Stanley,"

"Yes?"

"Hang in there."

"…'kay."

And with that, Stan left.

* * *

"What happened, dude?" Kyle's curiosity got the best of him when Stan sat back down beside his friend.

"We just… talked."

"Oh."

"I have to go in after school and talk to Mr. Mackey and the nurse again."

"Stanley, Is it that important that you have to interrupt my class _again?_" Mr. Garrison cut in.

"Sorry." Stan shrunk back in his seat.

Kyle scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to Stan from under his desk.

_How's your forehead?_

_**Fine.**_

_What did you have to talk about in there?_

…_**Stuff.**_

Kyle gave up. He knew Stan wouldn't budge.

The bell rang. All of the students flooded out of the classroom and into the halls.

"Stanley, can I talk to you for a moment?" Mr. Garrison gestured Stan over to his desk. Kyle looked at Stan and frowned, lingered for a moment, and then left.

"Are you doing alright? You seem more down lately. And..." Mr. Garrison peered at Stan's bruised forehead. "What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Yes, I do mind you asking. It's none of your business, alright?"

Stan walked up to the classroom door and into the halls, brows furrowed.

_Why won't people just leave me alone?_

* * *

It was the last hour of the day. The bell rang, and the students dispersed. Stan walked to Mr. Mackey's room, took a short breath, and knocked on the door.

"Yes, come in."

Stan opened the door.

"Have a seat, Stanley."

Stan sat down.

The school nurse was in the corner of the room, clipboard in hand.

"Now, I want to let you know that this is a safe environment. We don't judge here. You can say anything you need to, and we will listen. Now Ms. Nurse here will be taking notes, and we will come up with a plan, mkaay?" Mr. Mackey explained.

Stan shrugged. "I already told you everything you needed to know."

"Now, where did you get the alcohol, Stanley?" Mr. Mackey asked.

Stan's heart was beating painfully in his chest. "U-uh, from my dad's liquor cabinet. They never notice anything ever gone. They don't even notice when _I'm _gone." Stan didn't want to explain where he got the first bottle, with all the confusing AI and matrix bullshit that went down a few weeks earlier.

"Mkay…"

The nurse jotted down a few notes.

"This concerns me, Stan." Mr. Mackey said.

Stan looked down. He knew there was no turning back now. He had dug himself a hole he couldn't get out of.

"Stanley, how much do you drink a day, mkaay?"

"I-I don't know… maybe one glass before bed. It helps me sleep. If I drink enough, I pass out." Stan lied about how much he had been drinking. He would take just enough in the morning to almost get drunk, but not quite. And at night, he would drink two glasses, pass out, and wake up with an enormous headache. And the cycle repeated.

The nurse continued to scribble on her notepad, a concerned look on her face.

"But I also have a little before school sometimes," Stan continued. "It helps me wake up."

Mr. Mackey nodded, his concern evident on his face.

"Now, this thing with Kyle. You say you like him more than just a friend? Is that what makes you do this? You think it's not right and you should punish yourself because of it?"

Stan's face heated up. "Y-yeah… that's right."

"Well, you know what Stan, mkaay?"

"What?"

"It's alright to like him in that way. If that's what makes you happy, feel comfortable, then-"

Stan cut in. "Do I look happy or comfortable? It's tearing me apart!"

"Now, it's alright Stanley, just calm down, mkayy."

"No, listen to me! If my parents found out about… this, they would disown me. If Cartman and Kenny and everyone else found out about this, they would hate me. I have a feeling Kyle already thinks I'm a freak."

* * *

Cartman lingered in the halls for a little longer to grab his books out of his locker. The halls were silent. Cartman shut his locker, thinking he heard his name. "Huh?"

It was coming from the school counselor's office. Now Cartman deemed this interesting.

He pressed his ear up against the door and stuck out his tongue.

"I don't want anyone to know about this. Please, just keep it inside this office. It's between Kyle and me to figure out." Came a muffled voice from inside the room.

Cartman became curious. What could Stan (he'd recognize that voice anywhere) be talking about?

Like a gift from god, Cartman got his answer.

"I hate being this way… I want to like girls, I want to be normal… but instead I have a crush on my best friend. And that is why I punish myself."

That was the end of Stan's explanation.

"Son of a bitch…" Cartman cursed. Then suddenly realization. A light bulb went off in Cartman's mind, a sly smile creeping on his lips. He now had the dirt on Stan, and he could use it to blackmail him. This was perfect.

* * *

Cartman rushed through the school and out to the chilly Colorado air. He panted, just in time for the bus as it rolled into view. Stan followed close behind, but didn't notice Cartman until he strolled up beside him.

Kyle smiled as Stan approached.

"Hey, dude."

"Hey."

Cartman tried to contain himself, ready to burst and spill his secrets for everyone to hear.

"How did the talk-" Kyle began but Stan cut him off. He mouthed the words "_Please don't say anything"_ and frowned. "Uhh, with Mr. Garrison about the assignment on Friday? Yeah, he said we could work together."

"Oh, great, dude!" Kyle played along.

Cartman tried to contain a snicker but failed.

"What are you laughing about, fat ass?" Stan cut in.

"Oh, nothing, _fags_." He emphasized the word.

Kyle was about to retort when Stan grabbed his arm.

"Come on, people are already boarding the bus."

* * *

When Stan got home, he tossed his school bag on the floor. He didn't even care if his mom got angry. He just wanted to go to his room and pass out.

"Stanley, get over here, now!" Stan heard his father in the kitchen, and his heart leapt. He didn't seem too happy.

He thought it was because he left his room a mess last night, when he was supposed to pick it up.

Stan walked into the kitchen to be confronted by his Mother and Father.

Stan swallowed hard when he saw a familiar bottle on the kitchen table.

"What is this?" Randy asked, shaking the half empty bottle in his hand, its contents sloshing about.

"U-uh…" Stan began, looking down.

"Your mother and I found it in one of your drawers. Care to explain?"

"I was just-" Stan began, but his father cut him off.

"Why are you drinking, Stan? And how _long_ have you been drinking?"

"I don't want to tell you."

Randy slammed the bottle down on the table. The table rattled.

"Randy, calm down." Stan's mother whispered, the sour look not leaving her face.

"I-I…" Stan began.

"Oh, by the way, we got a call from the school today. Mr. Mackey said you were in his office."

"Y-yeah, I was, but-"

"'But' nothing!"

"No, wait, don't bother explaining. We know everything."

"O-oh…" was all Stan could say.

_Everything._

The word echoed in his mind.


	7. Chapter 7

**Back with another chapter, Hope you guys like this one. Sorry it's so short. Thank you all for the reviews, I'll try my best to reply to them. I will post the new chapter at 20 reviews. If you liked, please review, I love feedback and ideas that I can maybe incorporate in later chapters. Input helps me continue the story. Thanks again, guys.**

* * *

Ch 7

There was a knock at Kyle's door. It was snowing again, lightly dusting the ground over the piles of snow that still remained.

Kyle opened the door.

Stan stood in the threshold, sniffing.

"H-hey…" was all he said. He looked terrible, his hat about to fall off, hair in disarray underneath it, a half concealed panicked look on his face.

"Dude, what's wrong? C-come inside…" Kyle beckoned his friend in, placing a hand on his back and shutting the door behind him. Snow dusted Stan's shoulders, and he shrugged it off, patting the rest of the snow off of his body.

"C-can I…" Stan started, and worry was evident on Kyle's face.

"…Stay here tonight?" Stan finished.

"Sure dude, why? Did something happen?"

Stan looked around to make sure no one was listening.

"Mr. Mackey ratted me out and told my parents everything I told him and the school nurse." Stan felt a lump in his throat.

_Everything._

"And my dad, he found… the alcohol. He got very angry… and he…" Stan couldn't finish his sentence without sniffing. He held back tears. He didn't want to show any more weakness in front of Kyle.

"…He told me to find somewhere else to stay tonight. He doesn't know what to do with me right now."

"Stan…" Kyle frowned. "You can stay here tonight. I'll go talk to my parents about you staying."

"Thank you, Kyle…"

Kyle nodded.

"Kyle, I don't think it's such a good idea for him to stay over on a school night, bubbie. How about over the weekend again instead?" Stan overheard Mrs. Broflovski say from the kitchen. Her voice got louder as the two moved to the living room.

"But look at him! He needs somewhere to stay." Kyle argued defiantly.

"Oh, Stanley, what happened to you? And your forehead?" Mrs. Broflovski exclaimed, looking Stan up and down.

_I wish my hat covered up my forehead better. _Stan sighed inwardly.

"I'm sorry to just barge in like this… I-I can leave." Stan began to turn towards the door.

"No, it's fine. You can stay the night, as long as your parents say it's okay."

"Oh, I'm sure it's fine. They kicked me out for the night, anyways."

"What?" Kyle's mother was in shock.

"I did something bad… really bad."

"It couldn't have been that bad, hon."

"Trust me, it was."

Kyle frowned.

"Let's at least get you changed into something warmer and more comfortable. You can borrow a pair of my pajamas." Kyle forced a smile.

"Thanks. And thank you, Mrs. Broflovski for letting me stay for the night."

"You're welcome, dear."

* * *

After Stan changed into a pair of Kyle's old pajamas, the two sat on Kyle's bed, conversing.

"How's your head feeling?"

"Why do you always ask me that, Kyle?"

"Because I care, Stan."

The bruise had welled in size, the cut still oozing blood every now and then.

"It hurts. A lot."

Kyle frowned.

"You wanted the truth."

"I'll be back."

Kyle hopped off the bed, and when he returned, he held a wet dishcloth in his hand.

"Here," he said, inching toward Stan. "This should help." He began dabbing the dishcloth on the bruise and cut. Stan winced.

"I can do it myself, Kyle."

"Oh… here."

Kyle handed him the cloth.

Once Stan had removed all of the new blood that had oozed to the surface, he handed the cloth back to Kyle.

"T-thanks… for helping me. And caring." Stan smiled slightly.

"What are friends for?" Kyle replied, throwing the cloth in his dirty clothes pile.

Kyle returned the smile. "Best friends."

"Super best friends." Stan added.

* * *

Kyle had fallen asleep on the bed, Stan still awake. He sat on the edge of the bed, contemplating.

_No, stop it. I need to quit._

_You know you need it. It helps you sleep. You haven't gone without it before._

_I _do_ need it, but…_

Kyle rolled onto his side, kicking the sheet off of himself. He groaned in his sleep.

Stan noticed he was a heavy, messy sleeper. He laughed inwardly.

_No, you aren't allowed to feel happy. You aren't allowed to laugh. You deserve pain for what you feel._

_You're right._

"I need it…" Stan whispered aloud. He clinched and unclenched his fist.

"S-Stan?"

Kyle rubbed his eyes.

"Stan, are you still awake?"

The lamp light cast a shadow on the wall as Kyle sat up.

"What's wrong?" Kyle asked, when his friend didn't answer.

"I need it, Kyle."

"Need what, Stan?"

"_It."_

Kyle frowned, understanding what Stan meant. He knew he was going through withdrawal.

Stan was shaking.

"Stan, are you al-" Kyle began, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't touch me!"

"I'm sorry, I just want to help you-"

"Well, I don't need any help!"

"Stan, please be quiet, you'll wake up my parents and-"

"I don't give a damn, Kyle!"

"Shhhh! I'll help you through this, just please calm down!"

"Fuck you!"

Stan hopped off of the bed and began pacing the room.

Stan finally broke down after three minutes of pacing the bedroom floor.

He dropped to his knees and sobbed.

"God, I need it so badly, Kyle…" he said between sobs.

_Why did he have to get himself into this at such a young age?_

"Stan, it's going to be okay…" Kyle said, hopping down from the bed and wrapping his arms around his distraught friend. "Is this okay? Can I hug you?"

Stan didn't fight it.

Stan sobbed into Kyle's chest, holding around his torso, Kyle hardly able to breathe.

"I-I'm S-sorry, K-Kyle." Stan's body shook violently between sobs, and Kyle frowned, worry aching in his body.

After about ten minutes, Stan's sobs started to subside.

"There's nothing to be sorry about, Stan." Kyle finally said after Stan had stopped crying completely.

"I'm such a terrible friend."

"Why do you say that, Stan?"

"Because I dragged you into my problems."

Stan looked up at his friend, bleary eyed.

"I'm here to help you."

"I don't need help."

Kyle sighed. "Yes, you do." He said carefully.

Stan's face contorted into a look of anger.

_Kyle, shut the fuck up. _Kyle cursed himself.

"So are we just going to ignore this, or what?"

"Ignore what, Stan?"

"My feelings for you, Kyle. I need to get rid of them."

Kyle said nothing, frowning.

"That's why I drink. If I drink enough, maybe I can forget."

"That's not how it works."

"Well, I grasp onto the hope that it one day will."


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys, thanks for all the reviews. You are all awesome. Here's chapter 8. Please review if you liked it, it helps me get motivated to write more. Thanks again.**

* * *

Ch 8

"Are you going back to sleep?" Stan asked.

"No."

"Why?"

"I need to watch you. I want to make sure you don't hurt yourself."

"I'll be fine." In truth, Stan was hurting.

"I'm sleeping over here," Kyle said, moving to a corner of the room by the door. "So you can take the bed."

"That doesn't look very comfortable."

Kyle didn't want to admit that if Stan were to leave the room, he could hear him leave from the corner. He wanted to make sure he would be safe.

Stan frowned.

"At least take this blanket," Stan replied, handing his friend a blanket from the bed. "I don't know why you'd rather sleep over here."

"I want to make sure you're safe and comfortable."

* * *

Kyle had finally fallen asleep. He was snoring softly in the corner of the room.

Stan had the itch again.

_They probably don't even have any alcohol here._

_Worth checking._

_I don't want to get caught._

_You won't. You've seen a liquor cabinet in the living room. It's locked, but the key is under the mat right next to it. You know it is._

Stan fell into the temptation. It was like a dark void that sucked him in more and more every day. He couldn't pull out of it now. He was too far gone.

He got up quietly, made sure Kyle was still sleeping, and made his way downstairs.

Stan swallowed, made sure no one was awake, and made his way to the cabinet.

He almost bumped into the coffee table.

_Shit. _Stan cursed inwardly.

_There it is. Now all you have to do is unlock it._

Stan checked under the mat.

_It is there._ He grabbed the key and turned the lock quietly, a short clicking noise heard.

He grabbed a bottle, locked the cabinet back up, and made his way back to the stairs.

The lights flickered on.

"I knew it!"

Kyle stood at the base of the stairs, glaring.

"Give me that!"

"Shhh, Kyle-"

Kyle lunged for the bottle. He missed.

"Please, you don't understand how much I need this-" Stan started.

"You're addicted, Stan! You don't _need _it, you _want_ it!"

"No, I _need_ it!"

Kyle leapt for the bottle again. This time, it almost crashed to the ground.

"Please, just a little. Just enough to help me sleep." Stan pleaded.

"No!"

Footsteps sounded from upstairs.

"You woke up my parents, Stan!" Kyle hissed.

"_I_ did? _You're_ the one yelling!" Stan retorted quietly.

"Up the stairs! Now!"

The two made their way upstairs quickly, and rushed into Kyle's room, closing the door quietly.

"Give me that!" Kyle repeated quietly, his voice barely a whisper. He panted.

"No." Stan hugged the bottle close to his chest.

"I care about you too much to let you do this to yourself, Stan!"

"Then show it."

Kyle knocked the bottle out of Stan's hand as it rolled to the floor, luckily not breaking it due to the carpeted ground.

He grabbed Stan by the collar of his shirt and shook him.

"I won't!" tears welled in his eyes.

"Well, then you can just turn away because there is no changing my mind."

Kyle's face contorted into that of an angry stare. His mouth hung open slightly.

"Fine. Just fucking do it. I'm done trying to convince you, Stan. You're obviously not going to budge."

Stan looked down at the bottle at his feet. Guilt rushed over him.

"You're right," Stan started. "I do need help."

"But I need this more." he finished.

"If you need it, then go ahead. I won't stop you anymore." Kyle replied plainly, turning away from his friend.

Stan hesitated.

"Well, go on. Do what you need to do. Just know that I'm really disappointed in you, Stan."

"Don't guilt trip me, Kyle."

"I'm not trying to."

"Yes you are."

Kyle sighed heavily.

_I'm getting Stan help. I obviously can't help him myself. I'm calling a rehab center tomorrow. _

"Goodnight, Stan."

Kyle moved to the corner of the room again. He pulled the blanket around himself and closed his eyes.

"Do what you want now. I won't bother you anymore about it."

* * *

When Kyle had fallen asleep, Stan picked up the bottle and contemplated. He turned it around in his hand.

_Just do it._

_It'll disappoint Kyle, though._

_Who gives a fuck about Kyle. _

I_ do!_

_You obviously don't if you're about to drink._

Stan sighed inwardly.

He uncapped the bottle and took a sip, falling into the temptation. It tasted bitter on his tongue.

He took it sip by sip until the bottle was almost half empty. Stan's head was spinning. Or was it the room that was spinning? He wasn't so sure anymore.

He was about to pass out when he heard Kyle stir in the corner of the room. The blanket had been kicked off of him and he was shaking.

"No, Stan… please…" he mumbled in his sleep. "I'm s…sorry. I'm sorry I d…don't…"

"I'm sorry I lied to you, p…please don't l…leave me, Stan…"

Kyle mumbled something else incoherent that Stan didn't quite catch.

Stan stumbled over to Kyle, frowning as he looked down on him from the corner.

"Lied about what, Kyle?" Stan's words were terribly slurred.

"L…lied about liking y…you…in that w…way…"

Kyle tossed onto his side, slumping over further in his spot.

"I…I wanted t…to keep you s…safe, Stan…"

Before Stan could hear anymore, he had blacked out.

* * *

Stan woke up sprawled on the bedroom floor. His hair was in disarray, pajamas a mess, mouth dry.

His eyes fluttered open to Kyle standing over him.

"Time for school."

"What…?" Stan's words were slurred.

"I said it's time for school."

Kyle tossed Stan's normal attire in his direction. The clothes were washed and clean, fresh out of the dryer. He had an absent look on his face.

"I'll leave you to it."

Kyle left the room so Stan could get dressed.

Stan rubbed his forehead. His head was pounding. His body felt like it was about to shut down.

"Fuck…"

* * *

Once Stan had gotten dressed and ready, he walked hesitantly downstairs and into the kitchen.

Kyle was eating cereal. He had poured a bowl for Stan and had the milk ready.

"Here," Kyle said plainly. "I poured you a bowl."

"Sorry, I'm not hungry."

"How long has it been since you've eaten?"

"Why?"

"Because you need to eat."

Stan reluctantly sat down at the table next to his friend. Kyle poured the milk into the bowl and stuck a spoon in it.

"Do I have to do everything for you?"

Stan looked down.

Kyle finished his cereal and went to wash his bowl.

Stan said nothing. He played around with the cereal in his bowl.

"Come on, we're going to be late for school." Kyle said vaguely.

* * *

Stan swung his Broncos backpack over his shoulder as the two hurried for the bus stop. Cartman and Kenny were already there.

"Hey fags."

"Cartman, will you _stop _fucking calling us that?!" Kyle snapped.

"What, that's what you are, _fags."_ Cartman retorted, snorting.

"And why are you such a Negative Nancy today, huh Kyle?"

"Drop it."

* * *

The bus rolled up to the stop and the four boys boarded.

Kyle pushed his way through the crowd and sat at the very last seat. There was only room for one.

Stan sat on the opposite side.

"Kyle?"

Kyle ignored Stan as he called his name.

"Kyle?"

Again, ignored.

Stan's heart sank.

_I know he's upset with me._

Kyle had a blank look on his face as he looked ahead.

Stan felt his forehead again. The bump was slowly going away, and the bruise slowly starting to heal. The cut was still present, however.

"You have blood on your forehead."

Butters was looking over from the seat in front of Stan.

Stan touched his fingers to his forehead and pulled them back. Blood dotted his fingers.

He fished out his iPhone and looked in the reflection. Blood smeared his forehead, along with caked on dry blood. Stan groaned inwardly.

"Stan, you alright?" asked Butters. He was peering at Stan's forehead with a look of concern on his face.

"Fine, thanks. You better turn around." The bus driver was glaring at Butters from the front mirror.

Butters hesitated for a moment before turning around.

Stan took out a tissue from his bag and made sure all of the blood was wiped clean.

* * *

The bus rolled up to the school and the students got off.

Kyle pushed ahead of Stan and wandered off into the crowd of students. Stan huffed angrily.

_When is he going to knock it off? Jesus Christ._

When Stan arrived in the classroom, Kyle was sitting at the far end. Stan thought it was best if he sat away from him for a while.

_I miss him already._

_He's right there._

_I know, but it feels like he isn't. _

_Go talk to him, then._

_He won't listen. I've already tried._

_Then try harder._

Stan fished for his phone in his jacket pocket and typed out a text.

"_Why won't you talk to me?" _he wrote. Sent.

There was no response for about a minute and Stan saw Kyle glance at his phone but not reply.

He glared daggers at Stan from across the room.

"_I'm sorry." _Sent.

No reply.

* * *

The bell rang and the students wandered off into the halls. It was lunch time.

Stan got in the lunch line and Cartman sauntered up to him.

"What's wrong with Kyle?" he asked.

Stan shrugged.

"I tried asking him, but he keeps ignoring me."

Cartman nudged Stan in the side.

"Ask him again, then."

"Why do you care so much about what Kyle is feeling, fatass?"

Kyle overheard the conversation.

"He hates me right now for reasons. Can we just leave it at that?"

Cartman would drag the truth out of Stan sooner or later. He would get him to spill his secret; he just had to keep pestering him.

"Reasons? What are those reasons?"

"Leave me alone."

Stan pushed his way through the line and angry students glared as he passed. He grabbed his lunch and moved to a small table in the corner of the lunch hall.

Kyle sat somewhere in the middle of the hall with Kenny, Craig, and Clyde. Cartman shrugged and moved to the table where the boys were sitting.

Stan sat and picked at his pizza. He wasn't hungry. He just wanted to get home. But he had no home to go to right now. Not with Kyle hating him and his parents upset with him too. He didn't know what else to do. He had to make amends with Kyle somehow. He just needed to try harder to win his trust back.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey guys, back with another. Thank you all for the reviews, you are all so kind. This is a longer chapter this time, so I hope you all like it. Please review if you liked it, it helps me keep up with the story. Thanks again!**

* * *

Ch 9

It was the last class of the day. Kyle had still not spoken to Stan.

Stan wanted to confront him. He just needed to go somewhere quiet and secluded.

He needed to wait until after school. The bell was about to ring. This was perfect. He just needed to catch Kyle before he left.

"Kyle."

Stan approached his friend. Kyle turned around.

"What?"

_At least he said something._

"Can I talk to you? Alone?"

"You can wait until we get back to my house."

_He's letting me come back?_

"Alright."

* * *

Stan and Kyle walked from the bus stop and down the street. It was colder now, their breath showing in the chilly air. Kyle shivered.

The two entered the house, shedding their winter coats.

Kyle's parents were still at work and Ike was left with a babysitter.

"What is it?"

"You've been avoiding me all day."

"Yeah, so?"

"So, stop being a dick."

"Oh, I'm the dick." Kyle scowled and rolled his eyes at his friend.

"Yes, you are." Stan prodded Kyle in the chest.

Kyle pushed his finger away. "Knock that off."

"Talk to me, then!"

"You won't listen to me. You ignore everything I say. And you won't accept my help! I've tried and tried, Stan. I called someone this morning before you woke up. They should be here any minute."

Stan's face heated up in anger. "Who did you call?"

"I tried to call a rehabilitation center but they couldn't take any more patients. So I called a hospital down in Louisville."

"You _what_?! Without my permission?!"

Kyle crossed his arms. "They'll be here in fifteen minutes."

Stan shoved Kyle.

"I fucking hate you! Why would you do this to me?!"

Kyle had a look of hurt in his eyes.

"Because I care, Stan."

* * *

It was a two hour drive to Louisville. Stan had slept most of the way.

He had fought the escort and yelled at him when he was beckoning him into the car. They had to drag him as Kyle stood watching, Stan cursing at him and yelling his name.

"We're here, Stanley."

Stan's eyes fluttered open.

The escort killed the engine. Stan and the escort were separated by a thick layer of plexiglass and it was hard to hear between the two. The escort opened the door, the chilly air conflicting with the warmth that was inside the car.

Stan wrapped his blanket that was around him tighter.

"Fuck you…" Stan mumbled as he got out of the car.

"In this way."

They were parked at the loading dock, a few other new patients arriving as well. He was on the rehabilitation wing of the hospital that dealt with substance and alcohol abuse. No other younger patients were on the wing, so Stan had to stay with kids who were fourteen years of age and up to seventeen years of age.

They entered the hospital through the back.

The hospital was sterile and clean, white walls on hallway upon hallway. It had a small table in the corner with a half-finished puzzle, the pieces sprawled upon it. There was a shelf with several board games, and a table with paper and colored pencils strewn across the table top. A TV on the wall played the local news.

"Welcome, new patients. I'm Dr. Shultz, your new caretaker. Welcome to Centennial Peaks Hospital."

The doctor moved down the line and asked for names. He got to Stan and looked him up and down.

"Name?" asked the doctor.

"What?"

"Name?" he repeated.

"Stan Marsh."

"We go on first name basis here, Stan. It's to protect your privacy."

"Alright then."

The doctor moved down the line of new patients asking for their names as well.

A nurse showed the new patients to their rooms.

"Here's your room, Stan. You will have a room buddy. Unfortunately he's not here yet, so you will have to be alone until tomorrow," The nurse explained.

"I'm Nurse Lesley. We check up on our patients every fifteen minutes while you are sleeping to make sure everything is A-Okay. Doors will be open at all times. We have sessions and counseling every hour on the hour during the day. 9:00 AM to 8 PM. Then it's lights out at 11:00 PM."

Stan didn't want to sit here and listen to this. He just wanted to leave.

"Now I'm going to take you over here in this room and you will explain to me everything that is going on with you and why you are here, alright?"

"'Kay."

Stan followed the nurse into the room. She grabbed a clipboard from the hook on the wall and sat down at the round table. The air vent above hummed. Stan found this slightly irritating.

"Have a seat, Stan."

"Why are you here?"

"Because my asshole friend got me into this place. He called you people." Stan growled.

The nurse frowned.

"And why are you here, Stan?"

"Because apparently I drink too much."

The nurse nodded, scribbling down notes on her clipboard.

"And why do you drink, Stan?"

"Because I have a problem."

"And what's that?"

"I like my best friend."

"And what's she like?"

"_He."_

_Don't assume things you don't know._

"Oh. Ohhh… I'm sorry."

"I drink because I want to not think about it. I hate being this way." Stan sounded like a broken record.

"Stan, there's nothing wrong wi-"

"I know what you're going to say. You're going to say; 'Oh, Stan. There's nothing wrong with liking another boy. If it makes you happy and comfortable, then there's nothing wrong with it.' You don't even understand." Stan cut in sharply.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"…And your forehead. Did you do that to yourself?"

"Yes."

"Why, Stan?"

"Because I deserved it. Because of this."

* * *

Kyle sat at the end of his bed, his hands in his face. He shook slightly, sobs racking his body.

This was taking a toll on him.

He missed Stan, but he needed to help him. Stan needed this.

_I'm sorry Stan._

He felt like he couldn't face a day at school tomorrow. He didn't want to explain to Kenny and Cartman why Stan wasn't at school. He wanted to stay home.

A knock sounded at the door. Kyle sniffled and pulled himself back together.

"Y-yes?" Kyle quickly wiped the tears from his face onto his pajama sleeve.

The door opened, his mother standing in the threshold.

"You alright, bubbie?"

"Yeah."

"Where's Stanley?"

"He uhh… he got back to his house. His parents are not mad at him anymore." Kyle lied through his teeth.

"Well that's good."

Kyle nodded.

* * *

Stan was snoring softly in the uncomfortable bed of the hospital. He had had a long day of introduction and therapy (which none of it he got anything out of at all), and he ignored all of the other patients and sat in a corner alone playing solitaire for the rest of the night.

Stan awoke when he heard someone enter the room. They flipped a page on a clipboard, scribbled a few notes down, and walked out.

Stan couldn't get back to sleep.

His body shook with need.

"God damnit…" he mumbled.

Withdrawal symptoms were starting to kick in again for Stan.

He kicked the sheets off of himself in anger.

He hopped up out of his bed and started to pace the room.

A nurse walked in to check on Stan.

"Stan, are you alright?"

"No."

"Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No!"

The nurse frowned.

"Do you need to talk to someone?"

"I need something to help me sleep."

"I'll go get you something."

The nurse left the room, and when she came back, she held a small cup in her hand along with a cup of water. A small pill rattled within the smaller cup.

"Here, try this."

Stan hastily gulped down the pill and water.

* * *

Kyle woke to birds chirping outside his window. He sat up, yawning.

He peered at the digital timestamp of his bedside clock and blinked.

"Shit! I'm going to be late for school!"

Kyle hastily threw on his clothes, grabbed his bag and ran out the front door.

* * *

"Where's Stan?" asked Cartman as Kyle walked up to the bus stop.

"He's sick." Lied Kyle.

Cartman nudged Kyle in the side.

"No, seriously. Where is he?"

"He's sick, fat ass!" Kyle snapped, moving away from Cartman.

_He's sick in a different way. Not in the 'he has a cold' way, but in a mentality way. _Kyle wanted to admit. He needed someone to talk to about this.

Like he would ever tell Cartman that.

* * *

"_We were worried sick about you, Stanley!"_ the receiver blared, and Stan held it away from his ear a few inches.

"Not what you said when you kicked me out."

It was morning now, the sun creeping slowly up into the sun bleached sky.

Stan was in a tiny room with an uncomfortable plastic seat in the middle, a payphone hooked up on the wall. Patients used the phone to call their loved ones. They could only talk a max of ten minutes at a time. Stan was only on three minutes now.

"I'm fine here. I hate it, but I'm fine."

"_They wouldn't tell us anything! You know how that makes us look? And who called you in?"_

"Kyle did."

"_I'll have a talk with his parents tonight." _Stan's father was on the other end, livid. Stan was glad that he wasn't in the same room as him.

"_We're getting you out of there this morning and you are going to explain what happened, you hear me?!"_

"Yes sir."

Stan hung up the phone when his minutes were up.

He walked back to his room, yawning. His new roommate (or room buddy as the nurses and doctors called it) was sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Hey, Stan." Greeted the other boy. He had a quiet voice, messy brown hair, looked about the age of fifteen, and he was always skittish around all of the other patients, but somehow felt at ease when Stan was around.

"Hey, Keith."

"How are you this morning?" Keith was biting his nails, a look of distraught on his face. Stan concluded that he must always look like this.

Stan shrugged.

"My parents are coming to pick me up this morning."

"Ohh… I don't know if they can do that. There's a five day holding period. No one can leave until those five days are up. It would take some convincin'."

Stan frowned.

"To be honest, I don't want to go back home. But I don't want to be here, either."

"I feel you."

* * *

Two and a half hours had passed. Stan had fallen asleep after a therapy session. He became tired when the therapist droned on about the risks of underage drinking. Stan felt out of place in the room grouped with other patients who were four years and up older than him.

There was a short rap on the door.

"Stanley, your parents are here to see you."

Stan sat up. He rubbed his eyes.

"Great…" Stan mumbled.

The nurse escorted Stan to the meeting room where patients met with their loved ones.

He saw his parents sitting at a table, chatting with some other parents who were waiting for their child to arrive.

Stan hesitantly walked up to his mother and father.

"We're taking you out of this place, now." Stan's father said, grabbing him by the arm. "We can't afford it. And you don't need it anyway. We are going to have a little chat with Kyle and his parents when we get back, you hear me?"

"Yes sir." Stan replied plainly.

It took the doctor some convincing (As Keith had promised), but after a twenty minute talk and a lot of paperwork and release forms, the three could leave.

* * *

It was a long, agonizing two hour drive back to South Park.

No one spoke. The radio was off. Stan couldn't sleep. He was nervous about what was going to happen to him from here on out.

_Kyle's going to get in the most trouble for this._

Stan couldn't contain his thoughts.

"Dad, please don't blame Kyle for this. It's my fault."


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks everyone for the reviews! This chapter is longer that the rest... it was slightly hard to write for some reason. But I hope you all like it anyways. please review if you liked, it keeps me motivated to continue the story. See you next chapter, and thanks again!**

* * *

Ch 10

The car pulled up to the house.

"Get out."

Stan hopped out of the car, per his father's request.

"Do you know how much it cost us for just one night in the hospital?"

"No."

"One thousand dollars."

Stan shrugged.

"Wasn't my idea."

Stan's father glared.

"I don't know what to do with you, Stan."

"Help me?"

Silence.

"And don't kick me out?"

Still silence.

"Get in the house."

* * *

The bell rang and Kyle turned in an assignment to Mr. Garrison.

"Where's Stanley?" he asked, not looking away from his newspaper.

"He's sick." Kyle lied. Well, not a full lie, but Stan was "sick" in a way. Kyle shrugged the thought out of his mind.

"Hmmm."

"He has a cold. I don't know when he will be back."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah. It's one of those winter colds."

* * *

Kyle arrived at Stan's house. Randy had left him a voicemail on his phone telling him to come over. He didn't give any information, but it seemed urgent. He came in to see Stan's parents chatting with his own.

Stan was sitting at the table with his face buried in his arms.

_Stan! Why is he back?_

Kyle's heart sank.

"No! He needs help! Why did you bring him back?" Kyle's thoughts made themselves vocal.

Randy turned to Kyle.

"We need to have a little chat between you and your parents."

"Why?"

"You don't just send my kid away without our permission!"

"You kicked him out of the house! He came to our door a mess! He drank again the night before he had to be taken and I couldn't help him! What else do you want me to do?!" Kyle yelled combatively.

"Bubbie…" Kyle's mother frowned.

"I'm worried about him, Mr. Marsh. I don't know how to help him anymore."

"It's between us and him. Not you."

"But I care about him too!"

"Well, we're his parents."

Kyle huffed, frustrated.

Stan looked up at Kyle. He had a sore look on his face. He pleaded with his eyes for Kyle to keep silent about the whole ordeal.

Kyle wasn't done yet.

"He needs professional help."

"No, he needs to snap out of it."

Kyle's fuse was running thin.

"Come on, Stan, we're getting out of here for a while." Kyle moved over to his friend, who was now looking from his father to Kyle.

"I can't."

"Just for a little. I need to talk to you."

* * *

Stan had a sore look on his face. He and Kyle had escaped to Stan's room, and sat on the edge of the bed. Stan was slumped over, his eyes half open.

Kyle felt like he needed to be here for him. Alone. Without his parents glaring daggers at him.

Stan didn't speak.

"I'm sorry, Stan. I did what I needed to make you safe, I didn't-" Stan cut him off mid-sentence.

"Shut up, Kyle. Just shut your god damn mouth for once, alright?"

Kyle looked down.

He was about to say something else, but he stopped himself.

"It didn't help me at all. All they did was tell us how broken we were; that we were unfixable. I was shaking all night. Do you know how it feels to have withdrawal symptoms?"

"No, I-"

"It sucks, Kyle. It's hell."

Stan's hands were shaking.

"it's fucking hell."

Kyle's fuse finally ran out.

"Well, you know what, Stan? Maybe you shouldn't have gotten yourself in this mess in the first place!"

Stan turned to Kyle, his face contorted into a look of pure anger.

"Fuck you."

"You don't know what it feels like. If I recall correctly, you were talking in your sleep. And I remember vaguely you saying that you lied about liking me in the same way. You could have told the truth, you asshole."

Kyle's mouth was agape.

"I was trying to protect you! And what do you know? You were so drunk you were probably just hearing things!"

"Don't even bother. I'm not worth protecting."

Kyle grabbed Stan by his jacket collar.

"You are to me. I don't care how much you yell at me, or hate me, or call me names."

Kyle hesitated.

He pulled Stan closer to him.

"I love you too much to see you hurt this way."

It was an awkward kiss. Kyle's lips met with Stan's awkwardly, and Stan didn't know what to think of it.

Kyle didn't know what he was doing. He wanted Stan to listen to him, and if this is what it took, he would do anything. He'd never kissed before, but he was doing it now. Probably wrong, but he was still doing it.

It ended quickly.

Stan sat motionless, a look of shock on his face.

"Is that what you wanted?"

Stan didn't speak.

Stan stared blankly at the wall behind Kyle.

"Not when you're forced to do it." He finally said.

Kyle felt guilt wash over him.

"I already know your intentions, Kyle. You can stop acting for me now."

"I'm not acting for you, Stan-"

"Oh, please!" Stan cut in, shouting. "Just stop!"

"I'm done. I'm sorry, Stan." Kyle said suddenly.

"What?"

"I-I said I'm done."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're pushing me away. It's obviously what you want. You'd rather choose the alcohol over me."

"That's not true!"

_You know it is._

_Shut up._

"I thought I saw a change in you for the better. Or were you just acting for me? I miss my old friend. When we used to play video games, or watch football games together, or sled. I miss _you,_ Stan. I don't miss this."

"Well, that's long gone, Kyle."

Kyle sat in silence, contemplating. He hesitated.

"You're right."

"Goodbye, Stan."

And with that, Kyle walked slowly away, closing the door behind him.

He walked downstairs, a blank look on his face as he stared ahead.

"Kyle? Kyle bubbie?"

Kyle didn't answer.

"Kyle!"

"Huh?"

"What's wrong?"

"Stan and I aren't friends anymore."

"…what?"

"I'm done trying, mom. He's too far gone for me to fix. I have to let him go."

_Again._

"He's like a black hole that sucks everything in. I feel like _I'm_ being sucked in. Do what you will with him, Mr. Marsh. But just know he may push you away like he did with me. Until he's too far done for even anyone to fix him."

Kyle left.

* * *

The blistering cold and wind cut Kyle's skin like daggers. He walked home, snow blowing in his face, hardly able to keep his eyes open. He braced himself as the wind almost knocked him down. Snow swirled around him.

"Kyle!" yelled a distant voice.

Kyle didn't hear.

The voice came closer.

"KYLE, WAIT!"

Kyle stopped dead in his tracks.

It was Stan.

"…Stan?"

Stan appeared from the snow being tossed about.

"…P-please…" He panted. His breath barely made it to condensation before freezing in the blistering cold.

"Come back… It's too cold! You'll freeze!"

"I'm almost home. You go back."

"Kyle, please-"

"Go back, Stan."

Kyle began his trek again, almost slipping on a patch of ice before Stan grabbed his arm.

"PLEASE!"

Kyle hesitated.

He turned to Stan.

"Stay with me."

It took a moment for Kyle to reply.

"…I'm not giving you another chance. I told you, I'm done."

Stan's heart sank.

"I'm sorry, Stan. You're hurting me too much. I'm going to have to let you go."

"No, please, Kyle…"

Kyle didn't answer.

"At least come back. You will freeze out here. At least let me talk to you."

_I need to let him know that I care._

Snow swirled around them as the wind howled.

"…Okay."

* * *

_No matter how much I try, I can't pull away from him. _

Kyle's thoughts swirled in his mind.

Stan wrapped Kyle in a blanket, and then another. He handed him a hot mug of coco, the aroma filling the room. The two had escaped to Stan's room before the real argument started. Kyle tried to ignore the anger downstairs; Randy's voice was rising higher and higher. He was just a concerned father that didn't know what else to do.

_Try to ignore it._

Kyle sipped on his hot coco.

"Thanks…" he said quietly, not taking his eyes off the mug.

Stan nodded.

"Can we please talk?" Stan hesitated, careful of what he said.

Stan sat next to Kyle on the bed.

"What is there to talk about anymore? We've worn it out."

Stan sat in silence.

"I love you, Kyle."

"I wish you'd show it more often."

Stan's heart sank. He felt a lump in his throat.

"I know."

"It's going to take a lot for me to trust you again, Stan."

Stan looked down. Kyle was right.

"Help me, help you." Kyle whispered.

Kyle continued to sip on his hot drink, and Stan rubbed his hands together for warmth.

The yelling downstairs was getting louder.

_Ignore it._

A door slammed.

Silence.

Kyle began to feel a little frightened. He didn't want to show it, but he started to tremble slightly. It wasn't from the cold anymore.

"Hold me, Stan." Kyle said suddenly.

Stan flinched when Kyle latched on to him, wrapping his arms around his waist.

"S-sorry, I'm just… cold."

"It's fine."

Stan hesitantly wrapped his arms around Kyle as he leaned into Stan's shoulder.

The two were about to fall asleep when there was a knock at the door.

They couldn't retract in time.

"Stan, we need to talk."

It was Stan's father.

He looked at the two holding on to each other, and Kyle hesitated.

"Now!"

Stan hesitated slightly. Kyle trembled in his arms.

"W-why?"

"Down here, now!"

"Alright, alright…"

Kyle detached from Stan as he hopped off of the bed.

He followed Randy downstairs.

All of the parents were gathered around the table in silence.

"Stan, we've come to a conclusion." Sharron announced.

Stan felt a lump in his throat.

"We know about Kyle," Stan's father cut in. "Mr. Mackey told us."

"You said that he told you everything so I kinda figured." Stan tried to keep his composure.

"I don't know what to do about my feelings," Stan began.

"I don't like my feelings towards Kyle. Please, let me explain why I drink. I'm sure you already know because Mr. Mackey probably already told you. But this is why. I've known that I've liked Kyle in a way that was more than just a friend for a long time now. I feel like I've told this story numerous times. I'm sick of sounding like a broken record. He doesn't feel the same way for me and he lied about it. It makes me wish I had never told him anything."

Stan finished with a long, drawn out sigh. He wanted to break down again.

"I want to get rid of these feelings. And I feel that if I drink enough, I can forget."

Kyle was peeking around the corner at the group from the stairs.

"And until I can forget, I don't want to stop. I _can't _stop."

The group sat in silence.

Sharron had a look of worry on her face for her child.

"The hospital won't help me. Kyle can't help me, you all can't help me. I'm a lost cause."

No one spoke as they all stared at Stan.

Kyle walked down the stairs quietly.

His mother turned to him.

"Is this all true, Bubbie?"

Kyle nodded slowly.

"I-it is…"

"I was trying to protect Stan," Kyle explained quickly.

"The reason why I told him that I had the same feelings for him is because I wanted for him to stop what he was doing. Before it was too late. I lied… and I have felt guilty ever since."

"That doesn't help this, Kyle."

Kyle frowned.

"I know it doesn't. They needed to hear it from me too, Stan-"

"I'm sick of hearing it over and over again!" Stan shouted.

Kyle reeled back.

"I'm so sick of all of this! So god damn sick! Everyone hates me, my dad is mad at me, you lied to me," Stan pointed out everyone he was mentioning, "And I'm so fucking sick of it!"

Stan wanted to break down.

"You're pushing everyone away, Stan." Kyle's voice was barely a whisper.

"That's because I don't want you to get any more hurt by me! Don't you fucking get it!? Stop wasting your time on me!"

"The reason why I waste my time on you is because I care and love you, Stan. You're my best friend. And now I don't even recognize you anymore. You aren't Stan. You've been replaced by a cynical asshole who is hurting his friends and family. But you know what? You keep dragging me in, making me play your game. I'm sorry Stan… if you want to be left alone, just tell me." Kyle said, looking at Stan, who was fuming.

"I don't want you to be hurt by me anymore, Kyle!"

"So you're saying that you're done."

"I don't know anymore."

"Make up your damn mind, then. You're either done or you accept my help."

"I can't lose you, Kyle."

"It's too late for that, Stan."

The adults were looking on, watching their two children fight.

"You played me, Kyle. You made me look like a fool. You don't just kiss me and expect me to forget about it, or for my feelings to be dropped. It made things worse. You thought it would go away if you just did that, didn't you? You cling on to me like you have the same feelings, but you don't, Kyle. Stop fucking playing with me."

Kyle swallowed.

"That was supposed to be kept between you and I."

"Well now it's out in the open. If you're going to make me look like a fool, then I'll do the same back to you."

Kyle's face heated up in embarrassment.

"Fine. I guess that's only fair."

Stan turned to his parents.

"So, what is the 'big plan' you were talking about?"

"We can't afford the hospital," Sharron began.

"So that's out of the question."

"Yes? And?"

"We just don't know what else to do, Stanley. We're going to have to work it out here on our own."


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey guys. I've been a little busy with school since I'm graduating in two weeks, so I may not update as fast as I want to. Sorry about that. I also feel like this isn't the best chapter that I wrote so far but I hope you guys like it anyways. Please review if you liked, it helps me continue the story. Thanks again for all the reviews, guys. You are all awesome.**

* * *

It was Friday.

Stan groggily made it to the bus stop, his head pounding.

"'Sup, fags." Cartman sauntered up to the bus stop, prodding Stan in the side.

"Fuck off."

"Geez, what the hell's your problem, Stan?"

"I said, fuck off."

_Maybe if I keep bothering Stan, he'll spill his secret. _Cartman thought wryly.

Kyle stood at the far end of the stop, kicking loose snow on the ground.

He listened to the two rabble on as Kenny stood watch.

"Yo, dude, Stan, but seriously. I need to talk to you. I'm seriously."

"What do you want…?"

"I'll talk to you after school."

* * *

Kyle and Stan sat apart for the whole day. Stan sat slumped in his seat, tapping his pencil on the desk monotonously.

"Stan, do you mind?" Mr. Garrison, having been fed up with the noise, asked, rather annoyed.

"Sorry."

He dropped the pencil as it rolled onto the floor. He didn't bother picking it up.

* * *

By the end of the day, Stan was getting more and more irritated.

Cartman was pestering him nonstop, prodding him in the side.

"Fag."

"FUCK OFF!"

"Alright, alright. Jesus, Stan."

"Stop fucking poking me, then! Don't you have someone else to bother?!"

"Kyle's not around, so no. Where is that Jewboy, anyway?"

"Why should I know?"

"Aren't you two, like, butt buddies or something?"

Stan glared.

"Shut up."

The bell rang and Stan hopped off of his chair and proceeded to make his way through the flood of students. He would do anything to get away from Cartman.

"Wait! Stan, wait!"

Cartman huffed as he fell in behind Stan.

"Dude, Stan!"

"What?"

"Dude, I need to talk to you. Remember?"

"Hardly."

Cartman pulled Stan aside as the students flooded outdoors. The halls were silent.

"I know something."

Stan gave him a questioning look.

"Look, I know about Kyle." Cartman could barely contain his laughter. "Just wanted you to know that I'm here for you, man." He burst out laughing, his snorts filling the empty halls.

"Know about Kyle how-" Stan started, and then his face contorted into something like shock and anger.

"Who told you?!" Stan's face was inches from Cartman's.

Cartman reeled back as Stan slammed him into a locker.

"Look, Stan, calm down, dude-"

"Who the fuck told you?!"

"I just, heard it through the grapevine."

Stan thought he saw fear flash in Cartman's eyes.

"Don't play games with me, Cartman!"

Cartman laughed nervously.

"I'm not playing games, Stan. I'm super seriously."

"Will you stop saying 'I'm seriously'!?"

Mr. Mackey's door swung open and he glared at the two boys. When he caught sight of Stan holding Cartman against the locker, he tapped his foot on the ground, arms crossed.

"Stanley, what are you doing, mkaay?"

Stan let go of Cartman.

"Nothing, I was just leaving."

"Stanley, I saw you-"

"I said I was just leaving."

* * *

Wendy caught up with Stan before he boarded the bus.

"Stan," she called. Stan turned as he saw Wendy approach him.

"Hey."

"H-how are you, Stan?"

"Fine."

"Where were you the other day?"

"I was uhh… sick."

"Oh. You feeling any better?"

"Not really."

Stan sat in the back of the bus, Kyle sitting in the front. Wendy took the seat next to Stan.

"I feel fucking terrible." Stan didn't mean to say those words aloud, but he peered at Kyle from across the way.

"Stan…" Wendy started, frowning.

"I know about Kyle." Her words were carefully planned.

Stan turned to her.

"Who told you?" he tried to keep his composure.

"I just… know."

"Cartman told you, didn't he."

"…Yes."

"Just tell me then, Wendy. Don't lie to me. It seems everyone has been lying to me lately. What is everyone trying to hide from me? Do they think my feelings will get hurt or something?"

"No, it's not that, I just…"

"Just what?"

"N-nothing…"

Stan sighed.

"Now everyone's going to know soon."

* * *

Stan made his way up to his room. His parents weren't home yet. He slumped onto his bed, burying his face into his pillow.

He just wanted things the way they used to be.

The way they used to be before _it. _

* * *

Kyle sat on the edge of his bed, contemplating.

He turned his iPhone around in his hand. He wanted to call Stan. But he knew it would be best if he left him alone for a while.

But he also knew that Stan needed someone right now. But it was a double edged sword. On one hand, Stan needed the help, needed the attention. But on the other hand, he refused it. Kyle was at a loss.

* * *

Kyle's phone rang. He peered at the number, blinking, and looked at the time. 4:02 AM. Kyle groaned.

"Hello?"

"Kyle."

"Stan?"

"Kyle, please… please help me." His voice was groggy over the receiver.

Kyle sat up, the sheets shuffling around him.

He rubbed his eyes.

"What do you need, Stan?"

"Just… talk me out of it, please."

Kyle's heart leapt in his chest.

"T-talk you out of what?"

There was a short pause.

"What, Stan?"

"Stan?"

"Stan!"

Kyle jolted up in his bed, his pajama top sticking to his back. Sweat.

Kyle's heart thudded in his chest.

"I-it was just a dream…"

"fuck…"

Kyle took a few deep breaths.

"Just a dream…"

_Keep telling yourself that._

_It was just a dream._

* * *

It was Saturday.

Kyle groggily made his way downstairs to the living room, plopping down on the couch. He switched on the TV. He picked up his iPhone and proceeded to dial a number.

_I have to make sure Stan is ok._

* * *

Stan woke up on the bedroom floor, hat across the room, hair a mess, jacket thrown over the side of his bed. A familiar bottle lay next to him, half empty.

_You have to stop doing this to yourself._

_No. _

_It's hurting you. _

_But _that's_ hurting me even more._

_You're going to have to accept it sooner or later._

Stan groaned. He didn't want to move from his spot on the floor. His head pounded.

"Get out of my head…"

Stan's phone rang.

It rang from inside his jacket pocket.

Stan dragged himself to his coat and clumsily fished it out of his pocket.

"Huh…"

Stan realized that he hadn't clicked the answer button and the phone continued to ring.

* * *

"Come on, come on…" Kyle tapped his fingers on his chin, waiting for Stan to answer.

"Pick up…"

* * *

"What…."

"Stan?"

"Yeah? Who is this."

"Kyle."

"Oh."

"Are you alright?"

"No."

"What's wrong?"

"I feel like shit."

Kyle frowned.

"Do you need me to come over?"

_Thank god for weekends, _Kyle thought.

"Thought you weren't talking to me anymore."

There was a short pause.

"Do you need me to come over or not?"

* * *

Kyle arrived at Stan's house. The snow was melting slowly, but the sun was barely peeking out from behind the dark clouds.

The air was chilly.

Kyle rang the doorbell.

Stan opened the door slowly, standing in the threshold. He leaned against the door frame for support.

Kyle looked him up and down.

He looked terrible.

His eyes had dark circles under them, his hair a mess, no hat, no jacket, just a plain white t-shirt on and jeans.

Stan nodded.

"Hey."

"Jesus, dude…"

"What?"

"Look at yourself!"

Stan looked down.

"Oh."

_No, you know what? I won't judge Stan anymore._

Kyle took a deep breath.

"Can I come in? It's kinda cold out here."

Stan moved out of the way and almost stumbled backwards. Kyle caught him.

"I got it, thanks."

Kyle frowned.

"Where are your parents?"

Stan shrugged.

"Dunno."

Kyle shut the door behind him as cold air swept in.

"How can you not know where your parents are?"

Stan shrugged again.

"They went out, I guess."

The two headed upstairs and into Stan's room.

Stan hastily kicked the bottle under his bed as it rolled.

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"That noise."

"I didn't hear anything."

Kyle sighed, dropping the subject. He already knew what it was.

"Sit down."

Kyle patted the spot next to him on the bed.

Stan plopped down.

"Cartman told Wendy about… everything." Stan started.

Kyle blinked, frowning.

"I feel like everyone will know now. I just want to hide away."

"…you can't run from who you are, Stan."

There was a brief moment of silence before Stan spoke again.

"I know. But I can try."


	12. Chapter 12

**Hey guys, it's been awhile. I've been quite busy with school, since I am graduating in two weeks, so I apologize. Thanks for being patient. if you liked, please leave a review. it helps me continue the story. And as always, you guys are awesome.**

* * *

Ch 12

Monday rolled around and Stan was dreading going to school. His hands shook as he placed his books in his bag and swung it over his shoulder.

Cartman, Kenny and Kyle were already at the bus stop. Stan hesitated before casually strolling up to them.

"Hey guys."

The boys responded with a quick "hey" and went back to chatting about the upcoming football game.

Kyle walked up to Stan.

"Hey dude."

"Hey."

"You doing alright?"

"Honestly, no."

Kyle frowned.

"I'm afraid to go to school, to board the bus."

Cartman was tossing looks at Stan.

"And of… _him."_ Stan motioned to Cartman with his shoulder.

* * *

Stan entered the school. The bus ride was calm, few kids on than usual. Kyle walked beside him. Stan was shaking slightly.

"Stan, it's alright. Nothing has happened yet, has it?"

"No."

"Please stop worrying."

Cartman wasn't in his seat when the two entered the classroom. Stan shrugged off the annoyed feelings he had. Kyle sat next to his friend and motioned to Stan to look at his phone. A text showed up on the home screen.

"**Your forehead's looking a lot better."**

"_Oh, you're on that again, are you?"_

"**Sorry. I just noticed. The bruise is going away."**

"_It's fine. But thanks."_

There was a click over the intercom and Mr. Mackey spoke.

"Students, mkaay, we have a special announcement by Eric Cartman this morning. Not sure what it's about but apparently it's very important. Please listen up."

There was another click and shuffling as Cartman took the mic from Mr. Mackey.

"Students of South Park Elementary. I have some shocking news," Cartman began, clearing his throat. "I think there is something you should know about one of the students in the fourth grade class."

"You see, my good friend Stan Marsh told me to tell everyone about a certain someone. And that certain someone is his good friend, Kyle."

Stan's heart dropped.

_What the fuck is he up to now?_

Music started playing over the intercom. It was some lovey-dovey song that Stan didn't recognize.

"Stan loves Kyle. Isn't that sweet, you guys?"

Stan's face felt hot with anger and embarrassment. He felt the eyes of his fellow students glued to him. The students began to laugh. Stan wanted to run. He wanted to kill Cartman first, but most of all, he wanted to run. The laughing continued. Stan felt something being thrown at him. It was a wadded up paper ball.

Stan bolted from his chair as the torrent of laughter continued.

_This has to be all just a bad dream._

Stan huffed as he burst into the school office, Cartman standing at the mic.

"CARTMAN!"

Kyle heard Stan shout over the intercom.

"I WILL FUCKING _KILL_ YOU!"

"Whoa, dude… j-just calm down, Stan. I thought you wanted everyone to know." Cartman's eyes flashed with worry.

"WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU THINK THAT, YOU FAT PIECE OF SHIT?!"

Students gasped.

"B-because… I dunno, you just seemed like…"

"Well, spit it out!"

"That everyone should know, like I said."

* * *

Stan sat alone in his room. Snow drifted from the sky, light and fluffy. The sky was gray, the moon slightly peeking out from beyond the clouds.

Stan's shadow quivered as he sat sobbing into his hands.

Kyle called every five minutes to check if everything was alright. Stan didn't bother answering the phone. He didn't want Kyle to know that he had been sobbing for the past twenty minutes.

* * *

"Stan, please answer…" Kyle mumbled to himself absent-mindedly. He tapped his fingers on his chin.

Kyle had a sinking feeling in his chest, like something was not right. Something was about to go wrong.

"Stan!"

_I have to get over there. Now. _

Kyle threw on his jacket, slipped on his shoes, and bolted out the door.

* * *

"Just a few pills… just to help me sleep." Stan contemplated aloud. He shuffled a few pills out of the bottle, his mother's sleeping meds. His parents were still not home, and it was almost 9:00 PM. He didn't care. He'd rather them be gone than to find him sprawled on the bedroom floor, completely passed out. Stan unscrewed the top to the Jameson, hesitating for a moment, and took the ten pills that were in his hand, then swallowing them with a few gulps of the liquor.

After five minutes of taking them, Stan began to feel the effects. His head was spinning, the room spinning along with it. He stumbled slightly unable to make it to the bed, slumping down next to it. Oh how he wished Kyle was there. But at the same time, he didn't want him to see him like this.

The doorbell rang.

_Shit._

Must be Kyle.

Kyle tried to turn the doorknob, but with no luck. The door was surprisingly locked. It was a quiet little mountain town, so many people didn't even bother to lock their doors.

"I have to get in there!" Kyle cursed, running to the back of the house. The sliding glass door was the only door unlocked, Kyle rushing inside the house and up the stairs, only to find Stan half-conscious.

"Stay with me, Stan!" Kyle said, shaking Stan, grabbing him by the shoulders, Stan's eyes half open as he groaned.

"I just wanted to sleep." Stan replied, combatively trying to shove Kyle away from him. "Just leave me alone."

"No! I knew I shouldn't have left you alone! What did you do?!"

"I just took some pills, Kyle."

"How many?!"

"Five," Stan lied. "I took five pills."

"Don't lie to me!"

"Alright, I took ten."

"Jesus Christ, Stan! I'm calling an ambulance!"

"No, Kyle!"

Kyle fished out his phone from his jacket pocket. He dialed 911.

"911, what's your emergency?" Stan could hear from the receiver.

"My friend just took ten sleeping pills and I think he's been drinking too. Please… send help! I'm not sure he will make it at the state he's in!"

"Alright, just calm down. We'll send someone right away. What's the address?"

Kyle gave the address.

* * *

Stan had passed out. The ambulance rushed him to Hell's Pass Hospital, the closest one in town. Kyle rode in the back with Stan, tears welling in his eyes. He finally broke down when they arrived at the hospital.

"Come on in, Kyle." A nurse tried to console the troubled nine year old. She beckoned him into the hospital as tears streamed down his face. Kyle reluctantly obliged.

He sat in the waiting room, waiting to hear the news. Kyle shook with anxiety.

_What's going to happen to him? Is he going to be alright?_

A nurse approached Kyle. She had a worried look on her face.

"Are you Kyle Broflovski?"

"Yes."

"Come on back, please. Stan has been saying your name the entire time."

Kyle followed the nurse down the hallways, bustling with nurses and doctors in blue scrubs. The halls were sterile and white, too plain for Kyle's eyes. They turned down the hall to the ICU, and into a room guarded by a security guard. The guard made sure the patients in the room would stay in their rooms. Kyle entered the room.

It was a small room, a few chairs placed in the corner, an uncomfortable looking bed on one side of the wall. The walls were painted a dark purple. Stan was lying in the bed.

"He's still a little delirious, so be careful. He just got his stomach pumped to get rid of all of the medication he took." The nurse turned to Kyle and beckoned him to go see his friend. Kyle reluctantly approached Stan.

"Stan?"

No answer. He was still unconscious.

After about a minute, the nurse left the two alone, however, leaving the door open.

"Stan…" Kyle grabbed Stan's hand and squeezed it slightly, his own shaking.

* * *

Stan had been moved to a different room now, still guarded by the security guard. It was now midnight and still no word from Stan's parents. No reply on their end when Kyle tried to call.

The door had been closed to leave Stan and Kyle alone in privacy.

"Stan, I wish you'd wake up…" Kyle said softly, still holding on to his friend's hand. He yawned tiredly, slumping over, almost falling asleep himself. He jolted awake after a few seconds. "No…. I can't fall asleep. I want to wait until Stan wakes up."

An hour had passed. Kyle yawned every few minutes, shaking himself to keep himself awake. He would never drink coffee, but he knew he had to have some. He didn't want to let go of Stan's hand.

After a minute of hesitation, Kyle moved out of the room and into the main hall, asking where the cafeteria was.

"I just need some coffee." He asked the security guard.

"I can get you some. Go on and stay with your friend."

"Thank you so much."

The security guard nodded and smiled slightly. "No problem, young man."

Kyle returned to the room only to find Stan had sat up in his bed. He looked down when Kyle approached.

"Kyle…?"

"Yes, Stan, It's me."

"Oh…"

Kyle sat in the chair next to his bed.

"What happened…?" Stan asked, his speech slurred slightly.

"You…" Kyle hesitated. "Took sleeping meds. You told me you just wanted to sleep. Is that true, Stan? Did you just want to sleep? You weren't trying to… to kill yourself?"

"Kill myself?"

Kyle frowned.

"I just wanted to sleep. I wanted to sleep for a few days."

"Is that the truth, Stan?"

"I… I don't know."

"You know, you could have died…"

"I just wanted to sleep."

"I don't believe you."

Kyle grabbed Stan's hand again, squeezing it slightly.

"Is this about… what Cartman said over the intercom?"

"What? What did he say?"

"You don't remember?"

"No. I can't remember anything that happened today."

"Well, yesterday. It's," Kyle peered at a clock on the wall, ticking away. "two o'clock. In the morning."

"Oh."

"Never mind that." Kyle said. He didn't want Stan to have to relive that experience if he began to recover his memory.

"You're lucky that you just have retrograde amnesia and not brain damage from what you did…" Kyle began to feel slightly angry at Stan. "I am so worried about you, Stan. I am so goddamn worried."

Kyle began to cry.

"Kyle…"

"What…" Kyle answered between sniffs.

"Please don't cry."

"What else am I supposed to do? Do you want me to smile and laugh like everything is okay? Is that what you want, Stan?"

Stan looked down. He felt ashamed.

Kyle had his hands in his face now.

"You're making me worry about you more and more every day. I don't even want to leave you alone anymore!"

The security officer came in with Kyle's coffee. He frowned when he saw the boy crying. "I'll just sit this here." And with that he left.

Kyle squeezed Stan's hand tighter. "I just want everything to be okay again! I miss you, Stan!"


	13. Chapter 13

**I thought I'd write up a happier chapter this time since the last one was so dark, and I want to make this a happy ending story (this isn't the last chapter, but I'm progressing towards it.) Sorry it's so short. Thanks for sticking with me guys, and as always you are awesome. Please leave a review of you liked, it helps me continue the story.**

* * *

Ch 13

Stan was discharged from the hospital five days later, and Kyle was there every step of the way as Stan got progressively better.

"How are you feeling today, Stan?" Kyle asked, as Stan sipped on some water.

"Better, thanks."

They sat on the edge of Kyle's bed, Kyle holding his friend's hand tightly. Stan didn't mind it. Stan liked it when Kyle held his hand. It was a soothing feeling for him; it made him feel a lot better that his friend was there to support him. Stan was finally realizing that Kyle wanted to help him, to see him get better. And Stan was almost six days sober. He felt better than he wanted to project. His withdrawal symptoms were wearing away, slowly but surely.

"The Broncos VS. Dolphins is on tonight, Stan. Will you watch it with me?"

"Of course, dude."

The two hadn't gone to school in a week, Kyle insisting on staying with Stan for a few more days until he saw vast improvement. His mother and father reluctantly obliged.

Stan's mother and father were back, and upon seeing Kyle, thanked him for watching their son. They were stuck in a snow storm in Denver and couldn't make it back in time to see their son in the hospital, and had no service on their cell phones to answer Kyle's calls. All was finally falling back into place. Stan was getting the therapy he needed, and Kyle was becoming more and more hopeful with each passing day.

The hours ticked away and it was time for the game. Stan and Kyle sat on the couch, popcorn in hand and candy in the other. And of course, Kyle holding Stan's hand. He didn't want to let go. He felt if he let go, things would go wrong. Kyle scooted closer to his friend.

"Broncos are going to win, Stan."

"Of course, dude."

Kyle leaned on Stan's shoulder.

"Stan?"

"Yeah, Kyle?"

"I love you, dude. You're my best friend."

"I love you too, man."

"No, I mean…" Kyle began.

The two had grown together quickly since Stan had left the hospital. Kyle rarely let go of Stan's hand, but he was afraid of what would happen at school if he were to do so.

"I… I think I…" Kyle began again.

"I like you more as a friend, too, Stan." Kyle said quickly, his face heating up slightly. "I know I always have. I just… didn't believe it. Then I realized it. We have grown so much together over the last few days. I see how much I care about you. I almost lost you, Stan. I don't know what I would have done if I did."

Stan wrapped his arms around Kyle. He didn't have the words to respond.

"It took a tragedy like this for me to realize it." Kyle mumbled into Stan's chest. "I love you, Stan. Please remember that."

"I'll remember, Kyle." He hugged his friend close to him.

* * *

The boys were finally able to return back to school. It was a Wednesday. Cartman and Kenny were not at the bus stop yet. This was an opportunity for Kyle to hold hands with Stan. He reached over and grabbed his friend's hand, smiling. Stan smiled back. Cartman and Kenny strolled up to the pair, and upon seeing Stan, Cartman stood as far away as possible. Stan wondered why Cartman was acting to strange. As if that wasn't new.

"Cartman," called Stan. "Why are you so far away?"

"Uhh, no reason." Cartman replied, unable to mask his shock that Stan wasn't beating the shit out of him already.

He scooted closer, and upon seeing Stan and Kyle holding hands, he could barely contain a snicker. Stan didn't care, and neither did Kyle.

Kyle moved closer to Stan until their bodies touched. Kenny mumbled something incoherent and there was a snicker from Cartman.

"Heh, right Kenny." Cartman replied.

"We don't care what you think anymore, Cartman." Kyle said, rather plainly.

The bus rolled into view. The four boys boarded the vehicle and Stan and Kyle continued to hold hands.

_I can finally be me. _Stan thought, smiling to himself.

The two sat at the very back, as close as possible. Wendy tossed a look at Stan and Kyle, frowning. Stan waved at her, smiling slightly. Wendy scribbled on a piece of paper, holding it up to Stan while Kyle was looking out the window.

_**Can we talk? **_It read.

Stan nodded.

* * *

Wendy approached Stan, Kyle had gone off to take a drink from the water fountain. He was reluctant to let go of Stan's hand, and it took some prying.

"Hey, Stan."

"Hey, Wendy."

"So I guess you're with Kyle now, huh?"

Stan shrugged.

"Yeah. I guess. I don't know if it's official yet."

"So, we're over with now, huh?"

"Y-yeah…"

Wendy smiled, and Stan thought he saw tears in her eyes. "That's all I wanted to know. I wish you happiness. Seriously though, you two are meant for each other. I always knew."

Stan's face felt hot.

"Thanks, Wendy."

"I'll be your best girl friend if you ever need to talk to someone, alright?"

"You'll always be my best girl friend, Wendy."

Stan hugged her. "Always."

Kyle returned from the drinking fountain, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

"Hi, Wendy!"

"Hey, Kyle." Wendy smiled. "I'll leave you two alone. See you guys later!"

Kyle reached over and grabbed Stan's hand. "Am I… am I being too clingy, Stan?"

"Of course not, dude… I, uhh… like it when you hold my hand." And it was the truth.

Kyle smiled.

* * *

The two spent the night over at Kyle's house that Saturday. School was slightly rough for the pair, kids laughing and pointing as they strolled through the halls, holding hands. And the occasional wadded up piece of notebook paper. But they didn't care. Stan could finally be who he was. Without worrying. Without the trouble of keeping it a secret.

The two sat and played a card game on the floor of Kyle's room. "Go fish." Kyle replied, when Stan had asked for a five. Stan picked up a card from the top of the pile.

"Wanna watch a movie after this?"

"Wanna watch one now?" Kyle replied.

"Sure." Stan hopped up from his spot on the floor. He wanted to pick a scary one, so the two could cling on to each other if the one got scared. Stan laughed inwardly.

"How about… _Donnie Darko_?"

"Nahh, that one's too trippy for me."

Kyle got up and walked to Stan. He browsed the movies until he found a different one. Kyle had the right idea.

"This one. _Insidious." _he sounded out the word._ "_What's this about?"

"Oh, it's about some kid who gets taken by a demon or something, I dunno. I've never seen it. Why do you have this on your shelf if you've never watched it?"

"I don't know. Do you want to watch it?"

"Sure."

The two stayed up late, curled up in the bed, the blanket wrapped around each other. They clung to each other like wet dishcloths.

"Damn, this movie is fucked up." Kyle's voice wavered slightly. "I don't think I'll sleep tonight."

"I'll protect you." Stan replied, wrapping the blanket tighter around the two.

"What if that demon thing comes out of my closet and gets me?"

"Then I'll fight it off."

Kyle felt his face heat up.

"Yeah, you wouldn't. You're a huge puss."

"Am not!"

"Yes you are." Kyle laughed, playfully punching Stan in the shoulder.

"Boys, go to bed!" Kyle's mother shouted from the living room.

"Alright, mom!" Kyle shouted back.

Stan switched off the TV.

"I'll turn off the light." Stan proceeded to turn off the bedside lamp when Kyle stopped him.

"No, please… I'm kind of, uhh… scared." Kyle whispered the last part.

"Now who's the puss?"

Kyle huffed. "I'm not a puss!"

Kyle curled up in the blanket, wrapping it around himself.

"Goodnight, Kyle." Stan rolled onto his side, facing the other way.

"Goodnight, Stan."


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey guys. Thanks for all the nice reviews, you are all awesome. If you liked, please review, it helps me continue the story. I want to keep this story going for a while, because I really enjoy writing it.**

* * *

Ch 14

Kyle awoke to find Stan clinging to him. It was Sunday morning, and the light from outside filtered through the curtains. From the window, Kyle could see that the snow was melting away.

Kyle tried to sit up, Stan still latched to him. Stan opened his eyes.

"Oh, sorry." Stan apologized, detaching himself from Kyle. "Guess I got uhh… little cold last night."

"Whatever, you were totally scared that something was going to come and get you."

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yes huh!" Kyle playfully nudged Stan.

"You were shaking last night by the end of the movie, so don't even play that card with me."

"I'll admit, it was a little scary. Big deal."

"Pssshh."

"What do you want to do today?" Kyle inquired.

"Well, the snow's melting. We could do something outside."

"Like what?"

"Walk around town for a bit. I dunno." Stan suggested.

"That sounds nice."

"Really?"

"And just… talk."

* * *

The pair held hands as they strolled around town. The town bustled with people, out for a stroll as well. They turned a few heads, but Stan and Kyle didn't care.

"I'm proud of you, Stan."

"Why?"

Kyle was hesitant. "Because you made it to seven days sober."

Stan kicked a rock as it bounced down the sidewalk. It almost hit a passerby.

"You_ are_ seven days sober, right Stan?"

"Yeah. I am."

"That's why I'm proud of you."

Stan smiled slightly.

_Well, you shouldn't be, Kyle. I still feel like I let you down. _Stan would never say that out loud.

"Thanks."

Kyle nudged closer to Stan. He liked how close they had gotten over the last few days. Kyle realizing his feelings, Stan becoming sober, Stan's parents no longer sore at him. Everything was looking up. He didn't want that to change. Not for the world. But Kyle still felt like something was missing. He felt like his feelings only emerged when Stan was in a life or death situation. Kyle shook off the feeling. _No. I like him more than just a friend, I've already established that. _

Kyle squeezed Stan's hand.

"Let's go watch a movie."

"Alright." Stan replied. "But I don't have any money with me. We're going to have to get some."

The two headed back to Stan's house, only to be stopped by Cartman.

"Oh, would you look at that. A Jew and a Catholic holding hands. Isn't that a new one." Cartman called as he sauntered up to the pair.

"Fuck off, Cartman." Kyle glared daggers at the fat boy in front of him.

Cartman blocked the path. "Hey Stan, can I talk to you? Alone?"

"Why?"

"I need to ask you something. Something important."

Kyle shrugged and looked at Stan.

"You never ask me questions, fat ass. What's so important that you can't ask me in front of Kyle?"

"Go on, Stan. I'll go get the money while you talk to Cartman." Kyle hesitated before pulling away from Stan.

As Kyle walked away, Cartman pulled Stan into an alley.

"You fucking asshole…" Cartman began, raising a fist.

"W-what?"

"You think I would just forget about it when you shoved me into that locker? That's the reason I told everyone your love for Kyle over the intercom. And you with your stupid Jew rat… it makes me sick."

"What are you t-talking about, Cartman?"

"Oh, you don't remember? Well, let me refresh your memory."

"There's something more behind this, isn't there?" Stan began, Cartman raising his fist higher. Stan braced himself for a blow. Cartman aimed low and punched Stan in the gut. He stumbled back into the brick wall behind him, groaning.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" Stan growled angrily, his face heating up in rage. He grabbed his side as the adrenaline rushed through his veins, dulling the pain.

"You know fully well what's wrong. I hate seeing Kyle happy. My entire life is dedicated to making _his _miserable. Don't you get it?"

"Then why aren't you beating up on him right now instead of me?"

Cartman raised his fist again.

"Okay, okay! Just… let me go."

"Tell Kyle that you don't want to be in a relationship with him."

"No."

Cartman punched Stan in the gut again. He kicked him in the shin, knocking him down.

"Hey, hey! What's going on back here!" an angry voice called from around the corner. Stan recognized it as belonging to Officer Barbrady.

"N-nothing officer," Cartman replied, helping Stan up.

"Get away from me, fat ass!" Stan shoved Cartman away, limping as he tried to stand up. Pain surged through his body. Stan knew what Cartman was doing. He had punched him in a place no one else could see, so no one asked any questions. No cuts, no bruises to be seen on the outside.

As Officer Barbrady removed himself from the situation Cartman moved closer to Stan. "Next time, I'll do worse."

* * *

Stan limped his way home.

_What took Kyle so long?_

"Stan? Stan!" Kyle rushed over to his friend. "Are you alright?"

"Fine. I just… tripped and fell on my knee. I'll be fine." Stan lied.

Kyle had a concerned look on his face.

"It doesn't look like you fell."

"I fell, alright?!"

"S-sorry."

Stan sighed. "I didn't mean to yell at you, Kyle. It just hurts, that's all. It was a stupid mistake."

"Let's just go home. We can watch a movie next weekend."

* * *

The two had arrived at Kyle's house. Stan and Kyle shed their winter coats and kicked off their shoes.

Kyle knew something was up when Stan started to hold his side.

"You alright, dude?"

"Yeah."

"Why do you keep holding your side?"

"I… don't know. It just hurts for some reason."

"Can I see?"

Stan didn't even know what it looked like. He didn't want to shock Kyle when he showed him the possible bruise.

Stan lifted up his shirt slightly. A big bruise covered his side, turning a deep purple.

"Stan. What happened." Kyle asked solemnly.

A few seconds ticked by and no answer from Stan.

"Stan."

"Cartman."

"Cartman what? Cartman did this to you?"

"Yes," Stan answered quickly. "But it's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"'Don't worry about it'?! Cartman needs to lay off! Why did he do this to you?!"

"He told me it's because he doesn't like to see you happy. But I think there is a deeper meaning behind it."

Kyle crossed his arms. "That fat piece of trash… I'll beat him to a pulp if I see him again!"

"Don't even bother."

"Stan, he can't just push you around like that! I won't let him!"

* * *

"CARTMAN!" Kyle banged on the door to Cartman's house, with no response for several minutes. Kyle huffed as a click was heard, and the door unlatched and opened.

"Oh, hey Kyle. What's up?"

Kyle shoved the fat boy, Cartman stumbling back.

"Kyle, what the F?"

"You fucking ass hole! How could you do that to Stan?!"

"Do what?"

"Hurt him like that! He has a big bruise on his side because of you!"

"So?"

"'_So_'?!"

"Big deal. He deserved it."

"How?!"

"Because."

"Because why?!"

"Because you two aren't supposed to be together, you fucking Jew rat! You aren't supposed to be happy!"

"That's what Stan told me! But there's something deeper than that, Cartman, something you aren't telling us!"

"That's the reason! There is nothing else behind it!" There was sincerity in Cartman's eyes. "I just hate seeing you and Stan happy!"

"Do you even know what Stan has been through lately?! I am the only one who is keeping him happy! He's suffered through a lot, Cartman! Did you know that he went to the hospital twice? Did you know he overdosed? Did you know he's been drinking? No! Because you are a selfish piece of shit who only cares about himself!"

Cartman said nothing, pointing behind Kyle.

"What?!"

Kyle turned around to see Stan standing behind him.

"I knew you'd be here. I told you to keep out of this, Kyle."


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey guys, I'm back. Thanks for all of the lovely reviews. If you liked, please leave a review, it helps me continue the story. Again, you are all awesome. Hope you guys like this one.**

* * *

Ch 15

"Back again for more, Stan?" Cartman had his arms crossed, glaring daggers.

"If you hurt him again, Cartman, I _will _throw the last punch." Kyle growled.

"What makes you so high and mighty, Kyle?" Cartman snorted.

"Because I will protect Stan with my life."

"Come on Kyle, let's go," Stan said. "I don't want any more trouble."

Stan had to hold Kyle back as he was about to shove Cartman again.

Kyle gritted his teeth. "Let me go!" he struggled against Stan's grasp.

Stan grabbed Kyle firmly by the arm.

"I said let's go."

* * *

"He's lucky I didn't beat him to a pulp right then and there!" Kyle paced the room, hissing through gritted teeth.

"Stay out of it, Kyle."

"I will not stand by and watch him torture you, Stan!"

"We have to go to school tomorrow and face him, Kyle."

"What if he pulls you somewhere and hurts you again and I can't get to you?!" Kyle shouted.

"Can you please stop shouting? It doesn't make things better."

"Sorry…"

"Just… let me handle this on my own. I don't want any trouble again, and I certainly won't feed into him. I won't fight back because it will make things worse than they are already."

"If you won't fight him, then I will!" Kyle answered combatively.

"You're so stubborn."

Kyle said nothing.

* * *

Monday. Stan was dreading going to school, though he wouldn't admit it. His side still ached, and he had to go to the school nurse to ask for an ice pack.

"What happened, dear?" the nurse asked Stan as he sat on the rest bed in the corner of the room.

"I, uh, got hit with a baseball." Stan lied.

The nurse frowned. "Pretty big baseball."

"It was a softball, actually."

Stan placed the ice pack under his jacket and on the affected area. It stung slightly as the cold conflicted with the heat of his body. He winced.

"Are you sure it wasn't something else that hit you?"

"No, just a softball."

The nurse was persistent.

"It looks like something bigger than a softball."

"Alright! I got punched a couple times, Jesus Christ! Lay off!"

The nurse had a concerned look on her face, reeling back a little.

"It was just a little run in with someone I know." Stan whispered loud enough for the nurse to hear him.

"Do I need to call the counselor down?"

"No. I don't want this person knowing that someone found out about this."

"If it's troubling you, I need to let the counselor know."

"I can figure it out myself, thanks."

"Alright then, dear." The nurse replied hesitantly.

Stan left the nurse's office with a scowl on his face.

_I can figure this out on my own, without Kyle or anyone else holding me back._

Stan entered the classroom. It was still first hour. He held his side with the ice pack underneath, moving to his seat sitting down. Mr. Garrison was at his desk with his feet propped up, reading the newspaper as usual. The students were scribbling on paper.

"Nice of you to join us, Stan," Mr. Garrison said plainly, not looking up from his reading material. "Grab a worksheet from my desk."

Stan huffed inwardly, not wanted to get up again. His side ached with pain as he hopped up from his desk and grabbed the worksheet. Returning to his seat, Kyle motioned for Stan to check his phone. Stan fished it out of his pocket and looked at the screen.

"**Did you go to the nurse?"**

"_Yeah. I needed an ice pack."_

Stan could see Kyle typing angrily on his phone.

"**It hurts pretty bad, huh?"**

"_Yeah…"_

"**I wish I could hug you right now."**

Kyle was sitting at the far end of the room, away from Stan.

"_That would help me feel a lot better."_

"Stan, are you on your phone? Get to work!" Mr. Garrison said, annoyed.

"Sorry."

Stan put away his phone, as did Kyle.

Cartman hadn't bothered them yet, which was surprising. He was sitting near Clyde in the middle of the class, throwing angry looks at Stan. Stan tried his best to ignore him.

* * *

Stan and Kyle headed to Stan's house this time, holding hands. It was a normal occurrence now for the two. When they approached the door to the house, Stan opened it and walked inside, Kyle following beside him.

"Mom, I'm home!" Stan called to anyone who would hear. Stan's mother came from upstairs, and upon seeing Stan and Kyle holding hands, frowned a little. "Hello boys."

"Hi, mom."

"Hi, Mrs. Marsh."

"We were just going upstairs to my room to play a video game, weren't we, Kyle?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, boys. Not too long, alright?"

"Yeah, alright mom."

The two made their way upstairs to Stan's room. Stan shut the door behind the two.

"We aren't going to play video games, are we?" Kyle asked.

Stan shrugged. It was just a ploy to get his mother off of his back. Stan didn't like the way his mother looked at him when he and Kyle were holding hands.

"So, what are we going to do about Cartman?"

"I told you, I didn't want any trouble, Kyle."

"Well, we have to do something! I'm not just going to hide and act like everything is ok!" Kyle frowned.

Stan rubbed his side. "Well…"

"Well what?"

"Well, we can't hide from him forever. He's a part of our lives."

"We _hate _him, remember?

"I know, I know."

Stan sat down and rested his free hand on his chin.

"What if he goes after you next, Kyle?"

"He's too much of a pussy."

"He wasn't with me."

"He must have been really angry, then. He's always been a pussy when we 'fought' or that time I slapped him lightly and he cried for five straight minutes." Kyle laughed lightly at the memory.

Stan shed his coat and tossed it across the room. He slumped onto his bed and crossed his arms behind his head. "I still think there is a deeper meaning behind all of this, he's just really good at lying. We both know he can be a manipulative asshole."

Kyle frowned and sat at the foot of the bed.

When Kyle didn't say anything, Stan began again. "I think he's hiding something."

"I don't think so, Stan. He sounded sincere."

"But that's the way he gets to you."

Kyle nodded, but didn't say anything more. Stan sat up and lifted his shirt slightly, uncovering the bruise.

"Jesus, it's getting worse." Stan groaned.

"What if you broke a rib, Stan?"

"I don't know. Not much you can do for a broken rib."

"But still. You need to get it checked out."

"If I go to the hospital for it, my parents are going to ask what happened."

"You're right… well, is it hard to breathe?"

"A little."

Kyle scooted closer to Stan. "Lift up your shirt again."

"Why?"

Kyle sighed. "Just do it."

Stan did as he was told. Kyle pressed on the affected area, and Stan winced, reeling back. "Oww! You asshole, stop! That fucking hurts!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Kyle pulled his hand away.

"I think you broke a rib, Stan."

"No, I didn't."

"If it hurts that much, I think you did. Are you experiencing headaches?"

"Yeah, why?"

"That's another symptom."

"What do you know, you're not a fucking doctor!" Stan rubbed his side, grimacing.

"I know I'm not."

"Then stop acting like you are."

"I'm sorry, I'm just trying to help, Stan."

"Well, I don't need help."

Kyle frowned, turning away. "Sorry, I'll just leave you alone."

"I'm sorry, Kyle. I'm just… I don't know."

Kyle hopped up from the bed and wrapped his arms around Stan carefully. Stan tensed slightly, and after a few seconds, his muscles relaxed. Stan returned the hug.

"I…kind of needed that, thanks."

Kyle didn't want to pull away. He just wanted Stan to understand that he was there to help him get though all the rough patches. He would do whatever it took to get back at Cartman. But he would respect Stan's wishes at the same time.

"We _need _to take you to the hospital, Stan."

"I don't want my parents knowing what happened, Kyle." Stan tried to contain his annoyance for Kyle's persistency.

"Then we'll devise a plan."

"And what plan would that be?"

"What did you tell the nurse when she asked?"

"I told her I got hit with a softball."

"Perfect. We'll use that."

* * *

It was almost 6:00 PM and Stan had asked his mother to look at his side. Kyle had gone home to eat dinner, saying he would be back soon and asked Stan to text him if he needed him.

"It hurts pretty bad, mom." Stan winced as his mother looked the bruise over.

"What happened?"

"I got hit with a softball during recess." Stan lied.

"Well, this looks pretty bad, Stanley. We may have to take you to the doctor to get it checked out professionally."

_But I don't want to go back to the fucking hospital again._

"I'll be fine."

"Stanley, I am taking you to see the doctor."

"But mom, there's not much you can do with a broken rib-" Stan started, but shut his mouth quickly.

"It's broken?"

"That's what Kyle thinks."

"Well, Kyle's not a doctor, now is he?"

"No."

"Well, I'm taking you to one."

* * *

"Owww…. Oww!" Stan hissed as the doctor pressed on the affected area.

"Yep, we're going to need to take an X-Ray."

Once the X-ray was finished, the doctor put it up on the light screen and took a look at it.

"Hmmm…." He rubbed his chin. "Yep, that's definitely fractured. Don't worry though; we'll fix that right up. Nothing pain killers can't solve. It'll take a while to heal, but in the meantime, let's at least dull the pain."

"Isn't there any other way to dull the pain?" Stan's mother asked worriedly. She glanced at Stan and whispered something to the doctor. Stan caught "overdosed" and "worried" from the conversation, and then the doctor nodded.

"You'll just have to monitor the meds, Mrs. Marsh."

"I can do that."

The doctor scribbled something on a prescription sheet and tore it from the pad, handing it to Stan's mother.

"Here you are." The doctor smiled slightly. "Now, don't bind the chest. Binding makes it worse. Just wade it out and everything should be fine within the next few weeks."

* * *

Stan sat on his bed, holding an icepack gently on his side. It stung like hell, but the pain killers were helping at least a little. He felt a little disoriented.

There was a knock on the door.

"Stan?" Kyle's voice sounded from beyond the door.

"Come in."

The door knob turned and Kyle stood in the threshold, waiting for the ok to come in.

When Stan motioned him inside and gave him a signal to close the door behind him, Kyle approached the bed and sat down.

"How are you feeling?"

"Very tired," Stan replied lethargically. "But better."

Stan shifted the icepack slightly, grimacing. Kyle took Stan's free hand.

"Are you going to school tomorrow?"

Stan shook his head. "Mom says I need to rest tomorrow."

Kyle frowned. "I'll miss you, then."

"I'll miss you too."


	16. Chapter 16

**Hey guys, thanks for all the lovely reviews, as always. This one's kinda short so I may upload the next chapter tomorrow morning. Please leave a review if you liked, it helps me continue the story. Stay awesome.**

* * *

Ch 16

Stan lay in his bed, contemplating. He convinced his mother the previous day to let him stay home, and she reluctantly obliged. She realized that her son should rest, even if it was for a day. It was Tuesday. He felt bad that he had to leave Kyle all alone at school, the risk of Cartman ganging up on him. He doubted he would anyways. But Stan wouldn't admit that he wanted to stand up for himself, and he could easily beat the shit out of Cartman. He wondered why he didn't fight back that day. This would have been resolved, and his rib wouldn't have been broken.

Stan slowly removed himself from the bed, grabbing his side. His icepack had melted, and he needed a new one. His pain was coming back slowly. Stan made his way downstairs, and into the living room where his mother sat watching the news.

"Hey mom, can I get a new icepack and a pain killer, please?"

"Sure, honey." Mrs. Marsh went to the medicine cabinet and unlocked it, pulling out the oxycodone. She tapped the bottle a few times until one pill fell out; handing Stan a glass of water and the med. Stan reluctantly gulped it down, the taste bitter in his mouth. She then handed him a new icepack.

"Now go and rest, sweetie."

Stan headed back upstairs and into his room, closing the door behind him. He made his way to his bed and lay down carefully. He took a few short breaths and closed his eyes.

* * *

Kyle tapped his pencil on the desk, slightly bored at Mr. Garrison's usual rambling. _I wish Stan was here. But I know he needs his rest._

Cartman was throwing looks at Kyle, fire in his eyes. Kyle pretended not to notice.

_I'll get that motherfucking Jew rat. _

His anger fueled his will to be stronger. To show Stan and Kyle what they deserved, to suffer. He wouldn't back down until he saw them knocked to the ground and begging on their knees for him to stop. Cartman grinned evilly to himself. He wouldn't allow himself to be pushed around anymore. It was his turn now.

The bell rang. It was the last hour of the day. The students flooded out into the halls as always, and Kyle was left behind. He wrote the last of his answers on his test sheet, turning it in to Mr. Garrison. "See you tomorrow, Mr. Garrison." Kyle said, making his way out into the halls. He was surprised to see that all of the students had already made it out of the school. _I'll be late for the bus if I don't hurry._

"Hey, Kyle."

Kyle stopped dead in his tracks. It was Cartman. He turned around and faced the fat boy, inches from his face.

"Cartman." Kyle had to contain his anger. Cartman leaned against a locker, one foot against it behind him, arms crossed.

"I'm going to be late for the bus."

"Guess that makes two of us, then, Jewboy."

"Where's Stan?" asked Cartman after a few agonizing seconds of awkward staring.

"He's home, resting. Because of you, fat ass."

"Because of me?" Cartman laughed. "Great. It's good to see him at his weakest."

"How did you become so high and mighty lately? You finally gained the strength to not cry to your mom every time something goes wrong? And to beat up on innocent people? It's not like you. You usually don't throw the punches, Cartman."

"Well, things have changed. I'm fueled by anger now."

"Anger over what?"

"I've already told you that!"

Kyle already knew the answer.

"I've got to get to the bus, Cartman."

Cartman blocked the path when Kyle was about to leave.

"You and me, after school tomorrow, Stark's Pond. 4:00."

"Leave me alone."

"Tomorrow. Don't forget."

* * *

Kyle knocked on the door to Stan's house. Mrs. Marsh answered the door. "Hello, Kyle. Come on in. Stan has been asking for you."

"Thanks Mrs. Marsh." Kyle headed up to Stan's room and knocked on the door. Stan's eyes fluttered open upon hearing the sound.

"Come in." Stan answered groggily.

Kyle turned the door knob and closed the door quietly behind him.

"How are you feeling?" Kyle asked, walking up to the bed.

"Fine." Stan lied. He knew he wasn't fine. He felt horrible. He wanted to stay home for another few days.

"Cartman wants me to meet him at Stark's Pond tomorrow after school."

Stan sat up slowly, wincing as he did so, holding the icepack to his side. "What? Why?"

"Who knows. But it didn't sound good, obviously."

"I'll come with you."

"No, Stan. I don't want to risk you getting hurt again. Besides, you need your rest."

"If it's trouble, I'm going with you."

"I _know_ it's trouble."

Stan sighed. "I want you out of this. Cartman has just pulled you into _our_ situation."

"That's what he does. Besides, it's about both of us, Cartman says."

"I know it is. He told me that too when he…" Stan looked at his side. "…did this to me. I thought he punched me in the gut, but he hit me in the side and broke my rib. I wish he would have just punched me in the gut instead."

"Or not at all?" Kyle frowned.

"Can I see it again?"

"My side?"

"Yes."

Stan lifted up his shirt for Kyle to see. He removed the icepack.

The bruise had welled in size, a deep purple.

"Jesus Christ, it looks like it's getting worse…" Kyle said, a concerned look on his face.

"Doctor said it could take three to six weeks to heal. I have to take painkillers every twelve hours."

"Are your parents monitoring them?"

"Yes, Kyle." Stan huffed.

"I'm just a little worried after you-"

"Don't mention that, please."

"Sorry."

Kyle changed the subject. "I'm not meeting Cartman at Stark's Pond."

"That sounds like the right thing to do, Kyle. Like I said, don't feed into him."

* * *

"If he doesn't come to Stark's Pond tomorrow after school, I'll hunt him down." Cartman paced his room, talking to himself. He made a fist and punched it into his other hand. Cartman had never felt a rush like this before. He wanted to see Stan and Kyle both suffer. His intentions were fueled by hate. Hate for Kyle's happiness. But he was second guessing himself. He should have caught Kyle instead of Stan. Take out the weaker man first. Cartman grimaced. "It makes me fucking sick."

"Tomorrow, if he doesn't show up after school, I'm coming after him in his sleep."


	17. Chapter 17

**Hey guys, back with another chapter. Sorry it's so short, but the next one is longer. I may upload ch 18 today, I'll see how I feel about it once I am done revising it. Thanks again for all of the reviews, you are all awesome. I'll reply to them when I can, I've just been quite busy lately. If you liked, please leave a review, it helps me continue the story.**

* * *

Ch 17

Kyle was dreading school. It was Wednesday now, and the week was almost over. Kyle sighed as he made his way to the bus stop. Stan had texted him telling him that he wasn't going to be at school again. His mother wanted him to rest for one more day before she would let him return to school.

Kyle was the only one to board the bus at his regular bus stop. Cartman wasn't seen, and Kyle huffed a sigh of relief. But Kenny was gone, too.

_Where is everyone?_

* * *

Kyle hadn't seen Cartman all day. This worried him. He wasn't worried for Cartman, however, he was worried as to what he was planning. Lunch rolled around and Kyle grabbed his food and sat alone in the corner of the lunch hall. He just wanted to contemplate in solitude. All he could think about was Stan and how he was doing. He wanted to know if he was okay. Kyle fished out his phone and texted Stan.

"**Hey, dude. How you holding up?" **Kyle texted, and there was a fast response from Stan.

"_Fine. Is Cartman at school?"_

"**No. He and Kenny are both gone. Haven't seen a sign of either of them."**

No response from Stan for a few minutes. Kyle sighed.

"_Well, that's good. Sorry, I can barely keep my eyes open. I'll uh, talk to you later."_

And with that, Kyle put away his phone.

* * *

Cartman sat at his desk, contemplating. His hand rested on his chin, tapping his fingers on his cheek. He had convinced his mother to stay home today so he could work out his master plan. He wouldn't tell her that, of course.

* * *

It was 4:00 PM. Kyle hadn't shown up at Stark's Pond. Cartman knew this would happen. That's why he had a backup plan.

Cartman paced the pond bank. "Where is that stupid fucking Jew rat?" A thick fog started to form around the bank, making it hard to see.

7:00 rolled around and still no sign of Kyle.

_Goddamn it!_

Cartman had waited three hours. Three _goddamn_ hours and no sign of Kyle anywhere. He would have to wait until he was asleep. And he would get him at his weakest. Cartman's expression contorted into an evil smile. He would get Kyle while he was down.

* * *

Kyle snored softly in his sleep, the sheets kicked off of him, as usual. Cartman stared at him through his window, glaring daggers at the sleeping boy.

_I'll fucking teach you a lesson._

Cartman slowly opened Kyle's window, and, pulling himself up into the windowsill, dropped down onto the carpeted floor of the room.

Kyle felt as if someone was staring at him. His eyes fluttered open, only to see Cartman standing over him on his bed.

"What the-" Kyle started, only to be silenced as Cartman clamped a hand over his mouth.

"Shut the fuck up."

There was a muffled cry for help from Kyle.

"Why didn't you come to Stark's Pond like I said, huh, Kyle?"

Kyle struggled under Cartman's weight, a look of fear flashed in his eyes.

"If you did what I said, we wouldn't have to do this the hard way."

There was a muffled response from Kyle. "Fuck you!"

Kyle kicked Cartman between the legs when he let his guard down. Kyle gasped for breath as he bolted towards the window, jumping outside into the cold air. He landed into a pile of snow, shivering. He knew he had to get away.

"Kyle! KYLE!" Cartman shouted. "You can't run forever, Kyle!" Cartman huffed as he ran after Kyle, panting. "Goddamn it!"

Kyle ran until he found the playground near the basketball court he and Stan frequently visited. He ran into the tube slide, gasping for breath. He didn't know how much more his lungs could take. Shaking as he heard Cartman approaching, Kyle clamped his hand over his own mouth to stop Cartman from hearing him.

"Kyle, come out and I will make this easy. I know you're in there."

After a few minutes, Kyle surrendered. He exited the slide, his hands up.

"Alright, Cartman. Can we just talk about this?" Kyle shivered in the cold Colorado night. He rubbed his arms for warmth.

"What's there to talk about?"

"Please… just leave us alone about this. Stan is finally coming to terms with his feelings. He's finally happy and I am too-"

Cartman cut him off. "I hate seeing you happy!"

"I know. But you need to accept this situation. I want to keep Stan happy for once in a long time. I've seen him happier and happier each day. I just want to keep Stan happy, and you're ruining it! That's all I care about, his happiness over mine!"

Cartman's fists were shaking. He had a look of pure hatred in his eyes. "End it now."

"Why do you care so much that Stan and I like each other in a deeper way?"

"I already told you, dumb ass!"

"Is it because you think _you'll_ never find love, Cartman?"

Cartman's eyes glistened in the dark.

"When Wendy rejected you? It hurt, didn't it? You liked her. But now you like to see her suffer just as much as you make Stan and I suffer."

"S-shut up!" Cartman stammered, walking backwards slowly.

"You just want someone who will like you back, for who you are."

"Just shut the fuck up, Kyle!" Cartman covered his ears.

"You don't like to see me happy. I get that. But at least let Stan be happy. That's all the matters to me."

Cartman lunged for Kyle. "Shut the fuck up, I said!" The breath got knocked out of Kyle as he hit the ground, hard.

The two boys rolled around in the dirt, Kyle avoiding every blow Cartman was trying to dish out. Instead, the fat boy had punched the ground beneath him, bruising his knuckles. Cartman was seething with rage. He grabbed Kyle's wrists and pinned them to the ground, standing over him. Kyle tried to mask the fear in his eyes, but to no avail.

"I'll fucking end you…" Cartman hissed.

"Cartman." There was a voice behind the two boys.

"Let him go."


	18. Chapter 18

**Hey guys, thanks for all of the awesome reviews, I hope you like this chapter, I had fun writing it for some reason and I think it is my favorite chapter I have written so far. If you liked, please review, it helps me continue the story. **

* * *

Ch 18

Stan stood behind the two, his eyes wandering from Cartman to Kyle. He held his side firmly, an icepack against it. He was clothed in his pajamas, his usual brown coat on, but unzipped. His breath showed in the chilly air.

"Let Kyle go, Cartman."

"Stan…" Cartman's voice was laced with mock sympathy. "Poor, poor Stan. Did I hurt you pretty badly? Did you come back for more?"

"Knock this off, Cartman. I'm sick and tired of this."

Cartman let his bruising grip off of Kyle. He walked towards Stan, Stan stepping back a little. "You're tired of this? Well, maybe you should have just kept this a secret from everyone. Your love for Kyle, that is. This wouldn't be a problem if you would have just kept your mouth _shut._" Cartman cracked his knuckles.

"Lay off. You shouldn't have been listening in on people's private conversations anyways." Stan replied, his voice at a low whisper.

"You're brave enough to come back here, Stan." Cartman had a malicious smile on his face.

Kyle got up, dusting dirt and wood chips off of his pajamas. "Please, Cartman. Leave Stan alone."

"I'm not even scared of you." Stan replied to Cartman, the two staring each other down.

"You broke one of Stan's ribs, by the way, Cartman." Kyle narrowed his eyes.

"Good."

"I have to get to therapy tomorrow. I don't fucking have time for this." Stan snapped, throwing a look at Kyle. "I'm leaving." The oxycodone was starting to make him lethargic. "Kyle, let's go."

"Stan-"

"I said, let's go!"

Kyle hesitated before turning his back to Cartman.

"This isn't over, Kyle." Kyle could feel Cartman's eyes bore into the back of his head. He tried his best to ignore him.

* * *

"Stanley, how are you feeling today?" the therapist pushed his glasses from the bridge of his nose and started to scribble notes on a notepad in his hand when Stan answered him.

"Fine."

"You always say that when you come here. We aren't progressing, Stanley."

"Can you please just call me Stan? I only let certain people call me Stanley."

"Alright, Stan." The therapist looked up from his notes. "You've been coming here for eight days now. How are your sleeping habits lately?"

"Why?"

The therapist sighed. "I need to ask you these questions if I'm going to help you, Stanley."

"Stan."

"Right, Stan. I apologize."

"I've been sleeping a lot when I take the oxycodone."

"And your mother is monitoring the meds?" Mrs. Marsh had told the therapist about Stan's incident.

"Yes."

"So you haven't been sleeping before the prescribed oxycodone?"

"Not very well."

"Mhhmm…" the therapist scribbled more notes down. "Mhhm…"

"Now, tell me again, Stan, how did you get your injury?"

"I got hit by a softball."

"What _really _happened, Stan?"

Stan hesitated. "Uhh…"

"You can tell me. Everything is confidential in here, unless you want me to tell your parents."

"I got, uhh.." Stan started. The therapist waited for Stan to continue, nodding.

"I got punched a couple times. And it fractured my rib."

The therapist frowned. "I see. And by who, may I ask?"

"One of my 'friends'." Stan made air quotes.

"Why would your friend do this to you, Stan?"

"Because he doesn't like me liking my friend as more than just a friend."

"And who is this girl?"

"Not a girl." Stan replied plainly. Stan was annoyed at how many people had mistaken his relations with a girl. The therapist blinked.

"Ah."

"His name is Kyle."

"Now, does Kyle like you back?"

Stan shrugged. "I guess."

"He lied to me about having the same feelings at first, and just a few days ago, he confessed he had the same feelings towards me. I'm a little hesitant still, though. A part of me thinks he's doing it because I almost died when I… overdosed. And he's worried for me." Stan continued.

"I would be worried too, Stan."

_You don't know the situation. _Stan thought to himself.

"Can I have an icepack?"

"Sure, Stan."

The therapist got up, moving to the door, and opened it. He called to the receptionist and asked her to retrieve an icepack for Stan. She nodded.

There was an awkward silence as the two waited for the receptionist to come back. When she returned, she had a bag of ice in her hand. "This is all we have."

"That's fine. Thanks." Stan grabbed the icepack from her, it dripping water slightly. He lifted his shirt slightly and placed it on his bruise, wincing a little. Stan pulled his shirt back down over the icepack. The receptionist walked out of the room and closed the door.

"Now, Stan," the therapist continued, clearing his throat. "About Kyle. Are you secure about your feelings toward him?"

"Not really. I didn't want to accept them."

"I see."

"Now, the drinking," the therapist continued, but Stan cut him off.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"We have to, Stan."

"You told me when we first met we wouldn't talk about anything that made me feel uncomfortable."

"That's… true."

"I haven't drunk for ten days now."

"That's great, Stanley."

"Stan!" Stan shouted.

"Sorry, sorry." The therapist held his hands up apologetically.

"Are we done yet?"

"Not for another," the therapist glanced at his wristwatch. "Forty minutes."

_Fucking fantastic._

"I want to get home. I don't want to talk anymore."

"You agreed to an hour a day, Stan."

"No, my parents did, _I_ didn't."

The therapist sighed. "I'm here to help you, Stan."

"Well, you aren't helping. You're bringing up feelings I don't want to experience again."

"This is the way therapy works."

"Well, let me tell you, it's bullshit."

The therapist frowned, but said nothing.

"We need to progress or nothing is going to get better for you."

"Well, it's gotten worse again for me. Once I felt happy again, everything came crashing down."

"That's what I'm here for, to get you through this."

"Kyle has done a better job than you."

The therapist looked flustered, but quickly recovered.

"If Kyle is helping you more than I am, I guess you don't need these sessions."

"My parents won't let me leave these sessions until I get better. They think I haven't progressed much since I got out of the hospital the second time."

"You didn't tell me that you were in the hospital twice. What was the first time for?"

"Kyle called the hospital in Louisville and they took me away against my will."

"How was that for you?"

"Worthless." Stan clenched and unclenched his fist, turning it around a few times.

"I see…"

"Is it almost time yet?"

"We get out in twenty minutes. Is there anything else you need to talk about?"

"No."

"Then maybe I can let you out early."

"Great."

The two got up from their seats and the therapist motioned Stan out into the waiting room where his mother was sitting, reading a _Better Homes and Gardens _magazine. She looked up from the reading material, smiling slightly. "You're out early, Stanley."

"I'm done talking."

Stan's mother frowned. She got up and walked to the therapist, glancing at Stan before turning back to him.

"How was his session today, Dr. Burg?"

"Well, he wouldn't tell me much, _again_." he stressed the last word.

"He won't talk to us either. He only talks to his little buddy, Kyle."

"I need to talk to you a moment alone, Mrs. Marsh." Dr. Burg whispered, glancing over at Stan.

The two walked into the therapy room, closing the door. Stan sighed.

Stan fished out his phone. He started to text Kyle.

"**Hey, dude." **Stan typed.

"_Hey, Stan." _It was a quick reply from Kyle.

Kyle was typing again before Stan could reply. He waited for Kyle to respond again.

"_How was your therapy session?"_

"**Fucking terrible."**

"_I'm sorry."_

"**Not your fault."**

"_But still."_

"**I'll be back in an hour."**

"_Come to my house when you get back."_

"**Alright."**

Stan shoved his phone back in his pocket. He walked over to the trashcan and threw away his melted icepack. As he did so, his mother and Dr. Burg returned from the therapy room.

"Stan, can I talk to you, with your mother?" Dr. Burg asked.

Stan shrugged. "Sure."

The three walked into the therapy room. Stan sat across from his mother as the therapist closed the door behind them.

"Alright, we have to talk about something, Stanley." Stan's mother started hesitantly.

"I've been noticing things." She finished.

"Yeah?" Stan gave her a questioning look.

"With Kyle."

Stan swallowed. _The therapist fucking told her._

"You fucking told her, didn't you?" Stan tried to contain his anger.

"Stanley!" his mother scolded.

"No, no, no…" Stan closed his eyes and covered his ears. "I don't want to talk about it." His face felt hot. "You said everything we talk about would be kept confidential unless I asked you to tell my parents!"

"That's true, but-" Dr. Burg started.

"No! You lied to me!"

"Stanley-" Stan's mother began.

"Mom, please don't hate me… I tried to get rid of my feelings towards Kyle, but I can't! You and dad hate me, don't you?!"

"We already knew, honey. You don't remember when you mentioned that Kyle had kissed you?"

"N-no… My memory is hazy. I don't remember Kyle kissing me." Stan whispered. "I guess from when I overdosed. I can't remember anything from a few days to a couple weeks ago."

Mrs. Marsh frowned.

"We don't hate you, sweetie."

"But… it's wrong."

"Yes, it is, but it's who you are, and we can't change that."

Stan swallowed. _My mom said my feelings are wrong. She _does_ hate me. She's disappointed in me. _Stan felt the sudden urge to punish himself again.

"I…I have to get out of here, I'm sorry. Mom, can we leave, please?"

"We aren't done yet, Stanley." She answered.

"I feel very uncomfortable." Stan shifted in his seat.

"We can talk more on the phone, Mrs. Marsh." Dr. Burg replied.

"Alright." Sharon answered.

* * *

Stan and his mother arrived back at the house.

"I-I'm going to Kyle's, mom."

"Alright, Stanley."

"I need an oxycodone."

"I gave one to you before we left. It hasn't been twelve hours yet."

"But I need it!"

"How bad is your pain?"

"Very bad." It wasn't as bad as Stan made it out to be, but he wanted to feel numb again.

Mrs. Marsh sighed. She unlocked the medicine cabinet and pulled out the bottle. She handed him the pill and a glass of water. Stan gulped it down hastily.

"I'm not giving you another one for a while. I don't want you to get sick."

"Whatever."

"Don't 'whatever' me, Stanley."

"I'm leaving."

"Don't be out too late."

"I won't."

Before Stan left, he swore he could hear crying from inside the living room.

Mrs. Marsh broke down, sobbing into her hands. "Please, god, help my son… I feel like I've done all I can, but it's just not enough..."


	19. Chapter 19

**Hey guys! thanks for all the reviews, I'll reply to them soon. You guys are awesome. Hope you like this one, and please review if you did, it helps me continue the story. **

* * *

Ch 19

Stan arrived at Kyle's house. He knocked on the door, and Mrs. Broflovski answered.

"Hello, Stan. Come on in, hon."

"Hi, Mrs. Broflovski."

Stan made his way up to Kyle's room. He rapped on the door softly, and Kyle moved off of his bed, putting down the book he was reading.

"Stan." Kyle smiled. Stan walked in and Kyle shut the door behind him.

"How was your therapy session?" Kyle asked.

"You already asked me, remember?"

"Oh. I forgot."

"Kyle," Stan started, sitting at the foot of the bed. "Did you… uh…" Stan couldn't finish his sentence.

"Did I what, Stan?"

"Did you kiss me?" he drew out the sentence.

"You… you don't remember?"

"No."

Kyle frowned. "O-oh… you have retro-grade amnesia. From when you-"

Stan cut him off. "Yes. I know that."

"Stan, you seem a little uneasy. Is everything alright?"

"No."

"Tell me. I'm here to listen." Kyle grabbed Stan's hand. Stan pulled away slightly.

"I don't want to talk."

"A-alright. When you're ready." Kyle picked up his book from his bed and started to read again.

"What are you reading?" Stan asked.

"_The Shining._"

"Oh. Is it any good?"

"It's interesting." Kyle turned a page, not taking his eyes off of the book.

"What page are you on?" Stan asked. Kyle looked like he was pretty far in the book.

"Page 532."

Stan shifted slightly. Kyle flipped another page. The silence was deafening.

"Ready to talk yet?" Kyle asked after ten agonizing minutes, flipping another page. He still wouldn't take his eyes off of the book.

"Sure." Stan answered.

"What did you have to talk about in therapy that made you so uneasy?"

"U-uh…"

Kyle shut his book. "I'm listening."

"Just, things."

"Things?"

"Things that have been happening the last few days, and the last couple of weeks."

"Mhhm."

"I talked about you, Kyle. And then I talked about how I got this bruise… he wouldn't get off of my back until I told him the truth."

Kyle said nothing, and willed Stan to continue.

"And then the fucking therapist told my mom about my feelings toward you, and that's when I found out about you kissing me."

Still nothing from Kyle.

"Can you say something, please?" Stan said after a few agonizing moments.

"I don't know _what _to say, Stan."

Stan sighed, exasperated. "Alright."

A few moments passed. "Why did you kiss me, Kyle?"

Kyle hesitated. "You weren't listening to me."

"So it wasn't a real feeling."

Kyle swallowed. "Not at the time."

"Are you doing this because I was near death?"

"N-no, Stan. I'm not. I really do like you in the same way." Kyle stammered, and Stan thought he heard uncertainty in his voice.

"Is it because you want to see me safe, and not hurting myself? Is that it, Kyle?"

"Part of it, Stan. But not all."

Stan crossed his arms. "It fucking feels like that's the only reason."

Kyle reached for Stan's hand, but Stan pulled away. "Don't touch me."

"Are you feeding in to what Cartman is telling you, Stan? You know he's trying to pull us apart."

"I was trying to protect _you_ when I got punched by Cartman. I don't give a fuck about myself."

"…You let yourself get hurt because of me. Why, Stan?!"

"Because I love you, Kyle. I care about you and your safety."

"Care about yourself for once, Stan! Stand up for yourself!"

"I don't care what happens to me."

Kyle got up from the bed and walked to his desk, sighing. He slammed his fist down on the desk, making it rattle. Stan jumped. "I am so fucking angry, Stan. I'm fucking angry at this whole situation. I'm angry at you, honestly."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Yes, _you_!" Kyle slammed his fist into the desk again. "Fuck, Stan! Stand up for your fucking self!"

Kyle huffed, trying to catch his breath, his back turned to Stan, his hands upon the surface of the desk. Stan had never seen Kyle this angry before. He was usually angry at Cartman, but this was different. Stan swallowed.

"K-Kyle…"

"What, Stan."

"I'm sorry."

"Why."

"Because I've caused this. If I would have never told you my feelings, none of this would have happened."

Kyle said nothing.

"Just… leave. Please." Kyle finally said, his voice barely a whisper. "Leave, Stan."

Stan began to say something, he felt tears well in his eyes. "Oh. Alright." was all he could bring himself to say.

* * *

Stan left, walking back to his house with his hands in his jacket pockets. His side ached, but the oxycodone had dulled some of the pain, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to dull the pain of what Kyle had said.

_Leave, Stan._

The tears finally came when Stan got back to his room. With every sob, his body shook painfully. "F-fuck…" Stan cursed, clutching his side, pain radiating through his body. "Stop fucking crying… it's not that bad." But now the tears were from the physical pain he was feeling. Stan tried to take a few quick breaths, but it only made the pain worse.

There was a knock at the door. Stan hastily wiped the tears from his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Stanley, are you alright? I thought I heard you crying." His mother's voice was heard from beyond the door.

"Fine, mom."

The door opened.

"I said I'm fin-" pain surged through Stan's body, and he groaned.

Mrs. Marsh rushed to her son. "You don't sound fine. What's wrong, dear?"

"It just hurts, that's all." Stan huffed, trying to catch his breath again.

"I'll get you an icepack." Stan's mother moved out of the room and returned with an icepack moments later. She had some Advil and a glass of water with her in the other hand.

"Here, Stanley."

Stan took the Advil from his mother with shaking hands. Four tablets. _This won't help. _He swallowed them anyway. Taking the icepack, Stan pressed it to his side, the cold of it dulling the pain slightly.

"Now, rest, Stanley."

Stan just wanted to sleep for an eternity. He wanted to forget about Kyle for a while and what he had said. The oxycodone was making him feel wonderfully numb. And Stan liked the feeling. "Yes." He answered. "Can I stay home again tomorrow? It's Friday."

"Yes, honey. You need your rest. And this weekend I want you to rest too."

_Fine with me._

Stan thought it would be best if Kyle was left alone.

* * *

Friday. Kyle walked up to the bus stop, Kenny and Cartman standing in their usual places. Cartman threw a look at Kyle from across the way. The bus rolled into view and the three boarded the vehicle. Kyle rushed to the back of the bus and to the very last seat, which could only occupy one person. Cartman and Kenny sat together at the front of the bus.

"Hey, Kyle. Where's Stan?" Wendy asked as she sat across from him in the other one-seater seat.

"Uuh…" Kyle started, looking down, fooling with a loose string on his coat. "Resting, I guess."

"What happened? Is he sick?"

"Kind of."

"Oh."

"Haven't talked to him since yesterday." Kyle replied. He felt a lump in his throat, guilt.

* * *

Stan asked for another oxycodone.

"No, Stanley. Go rest. I'll bring you one tonight." His mother replied.

The pain was throbbing in his side.

"When's dad going to be back from his business trip?"

"Tomorrow, sweetie."

"Oh."

"I'll call you down for dinner in an hour. Now, get back up those stairs and sleep until then."

Stan unwillingly obliged. He made his way upstairs and into his room, lowering himself carefully into the bed. His phone dinged from his bedside table. Stan groaned in protest. "What the fuck do you want…?" Stan reached for his phone, unable to pick it up off of the table. He gave up after a minute of trying.

An hour passed, Stan softly snoring in his bed.

"Stanley, come down for dinner!" his mother called.

Stan groaned. "No." he said to himself. He wasn't hungry. He just wanted to sleep. There was a soft knock at his door.

"Stanley, dinner."

"I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat."

"I feel like I might throw up if I do."

"I'll bring you something up, then."

Mrs. Marsh came up from downstairs holding a small cup of soup. The smell of it made Stan feel sick. Food in general made him want to vomit. Maybe it was the effect of the meds. He sat up carefully, taking the soup from his mother. "Thanks."

"I'm not leaving until you take a few sips, then I'll leave you alone."

Stan did as he was told. He felt the bile rise in his throat immediately. "I-I can't…" Stan covered his mouth. "No more, please. I'll eat later."

Mrs. Marsh was hesitant, frowning. "Alright, Stanley."

Stan lowered himself back into the bed, wincing.

"I'll get you another icepack, Stanley."

"Thanks, mom."

* * *

Kyle sat at his desk, scribbling answers on his homework sheet. He tapped his pencil on his chin, thinking of the correct answer to the next question. He sighed. Kyle glanced at his phone on the desk. Still no text back. "Why did I even fucking text him… he needs to be left alone." _I'm still angry with him. He risked his safety because of me. _

Kyle was second guessing his feelings for Stan again. Maybe he was just doing this because he was worried Stan would go off of the deep end again? He wasn't so sure anymore. He rested his face in his arms, laying his head on the desk. Kyle balled his hands into fists. _God fucking damn it! _

A sudden anger overcame Kyle. He swept everything that was on his desk off onto the floor, pencils flying and a porcelain cup falling to the ground, shattering. "Fuck!" he hopped up off of the chair, picking up the pieces of the cup, the shards cutting his fingers. Blood seeped from the wounds. Kyle's hands were shaking. "Goddamn it, Stan!" Kyle shouted.

There was a knock at the door. "Bubbie, are you alright?"

"Fine, mom!"

The door opened. Kyle sat on the floor, his hands trembling, smeared with blood. "Just fine."

"Oh, Bubbie what happened? I heard a crashing from downstairs and I-"

"Just a little mishap and I dropped a cup, it's fine." Kyle continued to pick up the pieces.

* * *

It was ten o'clock PM and Mrs. Marsh entered her son's room. He was sleeping soundly, the sheets kicked off of him. She turned on Stan's Denver Broncos lamp on his nightstand and Stan blinked his eyes open. "Huh…?"

"Here, sweetie. I've come to give you your meds and then you can go back to bed."

"Oh." Stan sat up and took the pill from her hand and washed it down with water. "Thanks." He said groggily.

"And here's another icepack." Mrs. Marsh handed him the icepack and Stan pressed it to his side. She took the melted one with her and closed the door. Stan sighed and carefully lowered himself back into the bed. The door opened again.

"Don't forget that you have therapy tomorrow morning."

_Goddamn it. _

"Alright, mom."

* * *

Kyle had bandaged up his hands after washing the blood off of them. Still no text from Stan.

_I should have never texted him._

Kyle sighed and plopped down on his bed, grabbing his book. His fingers stung.

_Guess I deserve it after what I said to Stan._

Kyle's phone screen flickered on. Kyle grabbed it quickly and looked at the home screen, where a text was displayed.

"**Can't sleep. Side hurts a lot." **It was from Stan, who had answered Kyle's text of "_How are you?"_

"_I'm not mad at you, Stan." _Kyle responded.

"**That's not what you said earlier."**

"_I know. I am… angry. I just, I don't know."_

"**Well, make up your god damn mind then, Kyle."**

Kyle tossed his phone across the room, it landing on the floor face down.

"Fuck you too, Stan." Kyle hissed angrily through gritted teeth. Kyle's anger ebbed away slowly. The real emotions began to show themselves. It was a mix of guilt and anger, tears welling in his eyes. "Stan, goddamn it… I care about you too much to leave you alone or to be angry with you for too long."


	20. Chapter 20

**Hey guys, thanks for all the lovely reviews. This story is taking a turn that I didn't know it would take, but I still hope you guys like reading it as much as I like writing it. not sure how long it's going to go on, but I have to find out how I'm going to end this story so I can start on my new South Park one I'm working on. if you liked, please leave a review, it helps me continue on with the story. Thanks again.**

* * *

It was Saturday morning. Dr. Burg scribbled a few notes down as Stan talked. He had gotten more out of Stan today than any of the other sessions combined.

"I've been… wanting to drink lately." Stan admitted hesitantly. "Especially because the pain in my fractured rib has gotten worse. It's harder to breathe today."

Dr. Burg frowned, not looking up from his notes. He nodded slowly.

"And have you been taking the oxycodone as prescribed?"

"Yes. It only dulls the pain; it doesn't take it away completely."

"And you think drinking would take the pain away completely?" the therapist asked.

Stan swallowed, a lump in his throat. "Yeah."

"Stan, can I tell you something?"

"What?"

"No amount of alcohol or meds can get rid of the pain completely that you are feeling. Like you said, it only dulls it."

"But it hurts so bad…"

"Is it more than just the physical pain? Is there any emotional pain with it?"

There was a moment of silence from Stan. "More than just physical." He answered.

"What happened lately?"

"Kyle, uh…"

The therapist nodded, willing him to continue.

"Kyle is angry with me."

"Why is that, Stan?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"We were doing so well, Stan."

Stan sighed. "Alright."

"He's mad because I risked myself for him. Maybe it's something he's not telling me, I don't know." Stan continued.

"Stan, I'm going to have to tell your mother and father that you are considering drinking again."

Stan's eyes widened. "No, please!"

"I have to, Stan. This is important, and if you _do_ drink, and I _didn't_ tell your parents, I would be the one who gets in trouble."

"No, I don't feel like drinking." Stan lied, but failed to conceal his lie.

"Stan…"

"Please don't tell my parents! They will put me on lockdown!"

"I have to, Stan." The therapist repeated.

Stan's hands shook. He took a drink of his water. The glass trembled in his hand, spilling some water on the floor. Stan sat it carefully back on the table in front of him. "No…"

The therapist got up opening the door, and called in Mr. and Mrs. Marsh. Stan looked down at the floor, dreading the outcome.

"Yes, Dr. Burg?" asked Randy. "Is something wrong?"

"There's something Stan and I need to talk about," Dr. Burg started. "Stan has told me that-"

Stan cut him off. "I didn't say anything." He glared at the therapist.

"Stanley, let him talk." Stan's mother cut in.

"Thank you, Mrs. Marsh." Dr. Burg pushed his glasses from the bridge of his nose. "Stan has told me some things that make me worry," he continued. "He says that he considers drinking again."

Stan swallowed.

Sharon was about to say something, but couldn't find the words.

"Do we need to watch you 24/7 again, Stanley?" Randy asked, looking at his son.

"_Again? _When was the first time? You kicked me out, ignored me for a while, and left me alone when you allowed me to come back, and didn't monitor or lock up anything until just a week and a half ago!" Stan shouted.

"Don't shout at me, Stanley!" Randy retaliated.

"Admit it! Admit you are at fault for at least some of this!" Stan replied combatively.

"We did not kick you out, Stan!" Randy lied.

"Yes you did! Right after you found out I was drinking!"

"Alright, alright," Dr. Burg broke in. "Let's just… calm down, here."

"I want out of here." Stan whispered, crossing his arms.

"You can't leave until we get this resolved, Stanley." Sharon replied.

"I want out! I don't want to talk about it!" Stan removed himself from his chair.

"Stanley, get back in that seat." Randy warned.

Stan balled his hands into fists, shaking. "Why?" he had his back turned to the three.

"Because we aren't done talking yet."

Stan whispered something incoherent.

"What did you say?" Randy asked, his tone of voice had a hint of warning.

"Please just take me home."

* * *

Stan sat in his room the rest of the day. He was glad it was Saturday. But that didn't matter. All he could think about were ways to punish himself. The urge was overwhelming. He knew it would do no good, however. Everything was crashing around Stan again. Everything good was being ripped away from him as soon as it had come. Stan remembered stashing away a bottle of Jameson under his bed in a box, but he wasn't sure if he drank it all already. Stan swallowed. _No. Don't let the temptation overcome you. I can get through this._

Stan's mind was somewhere else; he wasn't listening to his self-conscious anymore. He removed himself from the bed, lowering himself onto his knees. He couldn't get down any lower. The pain in his side was excruciating. The box was all the way in the middle underneath the bed, and Stan could just barely see it. It was behind clothes and toys stuffed under when Stan didn't feel like picking them up. Stan huffed. He grabbed a baseball bat that was leaning against the wall.

"Come on, come on…" Stan stuck out his tongue, trying to push the box towards him. It felt like it didn't have anything in it. Stan's heart dropped. He pulled the box out from underneath the bed. He opened it hastily. Nothing inside. Stan narrowed his eyes. _My parents probably did a clean sweep of my room when I went to school one day. _He had no backups. "Fuck…"

_No, no. I can get through this without drinking. I can get through this without hurting myself. _

_You know you can't, _Stan's dark thoughts overwhelmed the good, _you know you need it._

"No!" Stan shouted, covering his ears, his eyes shut.

Stan's door swung open. His father stood in the threshold. "Stanley, what are you yelling about?"

"You took it!" Stan yelled, his ears still covered, eyes shut.

"Took what?"

"Took _it_!" Stan repeated. He stressed the last word. Randy understood what his son meant now.

"Yes, we did. We searched your room and took out all of them."

"Do you have any idea how much I need it right now?!"

"Stanley, we will help you get through this."

"I don't believe you!" though Stan wouldn't admit, his parents were the only ones he could turn to right now. Kyle was not an option. Stan's hands shook. Randy approached his son, leaning down on his knees in front of him.

"Stan. We are trying our best to help you. You have therapy; we are giving you all you need."

"No you aren't! I need Kyle!"

* * *

Kyle sat at his desk, hands shaking. Blood had seeped through the bandages, and he had changed them frequently. _I did deserve this._ Kyle felt like something was wrong, but he couldn't pinpoint it. It wasn't something wrong with him; it was something wrong with Stan. _Stop fucking worrying about him. He's fine._ Kyle couldn't push the thought away. There was a loud banging from the door, persistent. Kyle jumped. His parents weren't home, so this made Kyle a little wary.

Kyle slipped off of his desk chair, making his way downstairs. He reluctantly opened the door, and the banging stopped. Stan stood in the threshold, his body shaking violently, his hair sticking out from underneath his hat. He held his side, and Kyle could see he was in a lot of physical pain.

"I fucking need you right now! Put all of your anger aside, please, Kyle!" Stan shouted.

"St-Stan?"

Stan collapsed to the floor at Kyle's feet, gasping for breath. His chest heaved, and with every breath, Stan groaned in pain. "Please…" Stan wheezed. "Just please, I need you so badly…"

"I-I'm here for you." Kyle lifted Stan off of the ground, holding around his midsection.

"Owww!" Kyle had brushed up against Stan's side. "You fucker!"

"I-I'm sorry!" Kyle helped Stan to the couch, lying him down carefully.

"What happened, Stan?" Kyle's voice was laced with worry.

"I needed it… my parents took it all out of my room…"

"Needed what, Stan?"

"_It_."

The alcohol.

Kyle swallowed, leaning down to Stan's level.

"You've been so strong. Don't give up, Stan."

"I know I have, Kyle. The pain… do you have any idea what physical and emotional pain mixed together creates? With you being angry at me… and the physical pain from-" Kyle cut him off by putting a finger to Stan's lips.

"Just please, relax. You're hurting yourself more by the way you're acting."

"Fuck you, Kyle."

Kyle reeled back, his eyes glistening in the dark, the only light illuminated from upstairs, coming from Kyle's room. "You wanted my help, and this is how you treat me?"

"I'm sorry." Stan whispered. "I'm just… I'm just hurting right now. I don't mean to take it out on you."

Kyle sighed.

"I'm sorry, Kyle." He grabbed his friend's hand. Kyle's hand was trembling. Stan noticed the bandages.

"What happened?" Stan asked, worry in his voice.

"I just… broke a cup from my desk and stupidly tried to pick the pieces up by hand."

Stan tried to sit up. He hissed, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Lie back down."

"I need to sit up."

"Then I'll help you."

Kyle helped Stan sit up, leaning him into the back of the couch. "Better?"

Stan nodded.

Kyle began to lift Stan's shirt up to look at the bruise, but Stan shoved his hand away.

"What are you doing?"

"I want to see your bruise."

"Why?"

"Have you been taking care of it?" Kyle asked.

"Why?"

"You ask too many questions," Kyle sighed. "Just let me look."

Stan hesitated. He unzipped his coat and pulled it off, revealing a white t-shirt underneath. He lifted his shirt slightly. It didn't look like it was healing at all. It looked like it was getting worse, if anything. The bruise covered most of his lower side. Kyle touched his fingers to it lightly. Stan hissed. "Knock that off!"

"How long has it been since you iced it, Stan?"

"A few hours."

"Have you been taking your meds regularly?"

"Yes."

"Have you been eating?" Kyle noticed that Stan looked like he hadn't eaten very much.

"I can barely keep any food down without throwing it up. And that makes the pain worse."

Kyle frowned.

"Let me see your hands." Stan asked, reaching for Kyle's bandaged fingers.

"Why?"

"Now who's asking questions?" Stan asked, a small smile playing on his lips. Kyle loved to see that smile, even though it was a small one. Kyle held out his hands for Stan to see. "I can barely see them. Can you turn on a light?"

Kyle switched on the living room light, a fan started to whir from up ahead. Kyle turned the fan off. "I accidentally turned on the fan instead," Kyle said, now flipping the correct switch. "There." Kyle returned to Stan on the couch. He sat beside him. Stan peered at his friend's hands.

"Looks like it hurts." Stan turned Kyle's hand over in his own.

"It's nothing." Kyle replied, hastily pulling away.

"It's something to me." Stan looked up and into Kyle's eyes. "Your safety is important to me, Kyle."

* * *

Cartman had a feeling that Stan and Kyle were together, in the same place. He just needed to find out _where _they were. Kyle's house? Stan's house? Somewhere he couldn't think of? It was only eight o'clock PM. The minutes ticked by. He knew that Kyle's parents were gone for the night; he overheard him say it to Butters yesterday. Maybe they were at Kyle's house. A malicious smile crept on Cartman's face.

* * *

Kyle and Stan had fallen asleep, Kyle sitting, resting on his arm at one end of the couch, and Stan lying on the other end. Kyle snored softly.

Cartman stood across the street, staring down Kyle's house. His fists were shaking. "I know you're both in there." He said to himself. He quietly made his way across the street, looking up and down to make sure no cars were coming his way. He made sure the knife was secure in his jacket pocket.

Cartman crept over to the window overlooking the living room, spotting Kyle and Stan sleeping soundly on the couch. "I knew it." He whispered to himself. Cartman made his way to the back sliding door from the backyard. He made sure it was unlocked, and slowly opened it.

Kyle's eyes fluttered open at the noise. "Huh…" he sat up quietly, as to not disturb Stan. Kyle saw a silhouette standing in the threshold of the back sliding door from across the way. Kyle rubbed his eyes, and it was gone. _I'm just seeing things._

Kyle blinked and the shadow was closer this time. "What the fu-" Kyle started, but was knocked down by the figure. Kyle struggled against the weight, the breath knocked out of his lungs as he hit the ground. Kyle gasped for air.

"There you are, you fucker!" it was Cartman. Kyle would recognize that voice anywhere.

"Stan! St- mmph!" Kyle started, but Cartman clamped a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet.

"I've got you now, Kyle!" Cartman fished out a switchblade and Kyle's eyes widened.

"Cartman, please, we can settle this an easier way!" Kyle's words were muffled.

"There is no easier way, Kyle." A spiteful smile played on Cartman's features.


	21. Chapter 21

**Hey guys, sorry for the slight wait, I had writers block (ugh) for a few days, I originally wrote up two endings to this chapter and picked one, this being the one I liked best so I decided to roll with it. I hope you guys like it, and please leave a review, it helps me continue the story. Thanks for all the reviews, you guys are awesome.**

* * *

Ch 21

Cartman loomed over Kyle as he flipped open and closed his switchblade. "It's brand new. Very sharp. You're the first one I'll have pleasure of using it on." Cartman showed how sharp it was by cutting his thumb on it. Blood dripped down onto Kyle's cheek. "See?"

Stan heard the commotion and sat up quickly, his eyes snapping open. As a result of sitting up hurriedly, Stan hissed in pain. "Fuck!" the pain throbbed in his side. Cartman whipped his head around to glare at Stan.

Cartman smiled. "Hello, Stan. I was just showing Kyle how sharp my new switchblade is. You wanna see?" Cartman let go of Kyle and lunged for Stan, knocking him down. The breath was knocked out of Stan's lungs. Stan tried to gasp for air, but ended up groaning in pain. He had landed on his injured side. "Get up!" Cartman shouted.

"Get up and fucking fight! Stand up for yourself, Stan!" Cartman kicked Stan in his injured side, and Stan screamed in pain. The adrenaline rushed through Stan's veins, and his body shuddered.

"I-..I c-can't…" Stan gasped. "I c-can't…" tears from the pain he was feeling welled in his eyes, threatening to roll down his cheeks.

Cartman gave a final kick, a deafening _crack_ was heard and Stan fainted from the excruciating pain that was surging through his body. Everything went black.

"CARTMAN!" Kyle flung himself at the other boy, shouting as he did so. Kyle had come unglued.

Kyle quickly grabbed the switchblade from the floor, and was about to stab him in arm when Cartman grabbed his wrist. The two rolled around on the floor, Cartman ending up on top again. Cartman laughed low. "Now you'll see how sharp it is when I stab you right between the eyes." Before Cartman could do so, Kyle grabbed Cartman's wrist in a bruising grip, the adrenaline coursing through his veins. The blade was inches from Kyle's face.

"No… you… won't!" Kyle grunted, trying to push Cartman off of him. The blade trembled in Cartman's hand. Kyle ended up on top again, grabbing the switchblade when Cartman let his guard down. He quickly jabbed the blade into Cartman's right shoulder, blood seeping out and spilling onto the carpet.

"Fuck!" Cartman shouted, grabbing the injured arm, the blade still stuck. The entire blade had penetrated Cartman's upper arm near his shoulder, blood continued to gush out of the open wound.

"I'll fucking kill you!" Cartman screeched, unable to remove the blade from his shoulder. After a few seconds of grunting and pulling from Cartman, the blade had been pulled out, blood pouring out faster now. Kyle sat in horror as the blood stained the carpet. Kyle feinted to the side as Cartman threw the blade, barely nicking Kyle's right cheek as he did so. The blade stuck into the wall behind Kyle, blood dripping down it and spattering the walls with a dark red. There were a few gasps from Cartman as he dragged himself to Kyle before fainting at his feet.

Kyle stared wide eyed at Cartman below him, unable to speak. The blood flow had slowed down to a slow trickle; Kyle could see a large hole in Cartman's shoulder where the blade had been. _What have I done?_ _I have to call the police. I have to call the police!_ Kyle's hands shook, Cartman's blood smearing them. Blood had splattered onto his jacket.

Kyle dialed 911, his hands trembling as he fished his phone out of his pocket. "H-hello? M-my friend is greatly i-injured… s-someone attacked us while we were asleep. P-please… send help." Kyle dropped the phone as it landed to the floor, he could hear the person on the other end of the call ask what the address was. They would find out. Kyle dropped to his knees and sobbed. It all came out at once, rage, sadness, guilt. Kyle didn't know what to do. He had stabbed someone. But it was in self-defense, he only did enough damage to make Cartman stop. To save Stan. But he even failed at that. Kyle glanced at Stan who was sprawled on the floor, clutching his side. He was knocked out cold. Kyle crawled to him.

"St-Stan?" Kyle whispered, looking at his friend. He tried to roll him on his back, no response. "Stay with me, Stan!"

* * *

Police sirens blared in the distance. The flashing of red and blue lights caught Kyle's attention as he looked out the window. Kyle had called his parents letting them know what happened. He had called Stan's parents, too. There was a knock at the door.

"Hi there, young man," a police officer said as Kyle opened the door. "This is the Broflovski residence?" he peered into the house behind Kyle, the house quiet and dark. The officer saw two motionless shapes on the ground.

"Y-yes… please! Get in there! My friend is really hurt!"

The police man motioned his comrades in with him, turning on the lights, and upon seeing the two motionless bodies, called for backup. "We need a paramedic over here," one of them called. "Both are injured." He peered at Cartman's injury while another looked Stan over.

"Everything is going to be alright, young man," the police officer reassured Kyle. "We will get them to the hospital."

* * *

Stan tried to sit up after two hours of being sedated. It was midnight. Kyle had sat watch the entire time, Stan's parents and Kyle taking turns. "St-Stan?"

"What the fuck happened….?" Stan asked groggily, grabbing his side when a surge of pain racked his body. Stan shuddered. "My side fucking hurts… really, really badly…"

Kyle swallowed. "Cartman… he broke your rib again, along with a couple others, when he kicked you down."

"God fucking damn it, am I in the hospital again?"

"Yes… it was the only thing they could do, Stan."

"I don't want to be here!"

"I-I know…"

"My parents are probably mad at me! Get me out of here!"

"There's nothing _I_ can do, Stan."

There was a moment of silence.

"Cartman is in the next room, being treated." Kyle started again.

"What happened?" Stan asked.

"I, uh…"

Stan stared at Kyle.

"I stabbed him in the shoulder."

"You _what?!_"

"I-I was trying to protect you and myself! He came at me with the knife and threatened me when he knocked you out! What else was I supposed to do?" Kyle defended himself.

The door unlatched and a nurse walked in, her heels clicking on the tiled floors. She carried with her something for Stan to eat. "Stan needs to eat now, Kyle. Go sit in the waiting room and let him rest."

"No, please, just let me stay with him a little while longer." Kyle pleaded.

The nurse hesitated. "…Oh, alright. Another hour. Then you need to let him rest."

Kyle nodded. "Thank you."

The nurse set up a tray and plopped the food on it, Stan looked disinterested. "Thanks." Stan said plainly. It was a boxed meal, with a sandwich, a cup of juice, a packet of Oreos, and Jell-O. The nurse departed.

Stan poked at the Jell-O with his spoon. It wiggled.

"Stan, you have to eat something."

"I don't want to."

"You need to."

"No."

"Do I need to feed it to you?"

"I'm not hungry, Kyle! Fuck off!"

Kyle reeled back. "If you say so." He had a hurt look on his face, but quickly masked it; acting like Stan's rude comment didn't bother him. Kyle shrugged it off. He switched on the TV that was on the wall, flipping through the channels. Kyle made a point to distract himself when Stan wasn't cooperating. Stan slumped further into his bed. There was a knock at the door and Stan's parents entered, along with Kyle's.

"Oh, bubbie, what happened?" Mrs. Broflovski rushed to her son, and upon seeing the dry blood caked on Kyle's hands and coat, gasped.

"Something happened… we're fine now." Kyle answered.

"What happened, Kyle?" Gerald, Kyle's father, asked.

"We just… Cartman… uh.."

"Spit it out, then, Kyle. Cartman what?" Everyone reeled around to see Cartman had entered the room, in blue patient scrubs, holding his bandaged right shoulder. Blood seeped through the wrappings.

"Eric, you're not supposed to be out of your bed-" a nurse rushed into the room after Cartman, but he cut her off.

"I had to get twenty stitches because of you, Kyle." Cartman pointed with his finger with his one good arm at Kyle. "Twenty stitches."

"You fucking came at me with a knife and threatened to _kill_ me!" Kyle retaliated. Everyone stood in silence. No one said a word. "And Stan," Kyle continued, "You broke his rib again, and a couple of others! Why?!"

"You know the answer."

Kyle had to contain himself. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down.

Ms. Cartman walked in. "Eric, my baby!" she had tears staining her face. "I came as soon as I got the call! Who did this to you?!" she held Cartman in her arms. Cartman shoved her away.

"Kyle did it!" Cartman pointed a shaky finger at the accused boy.

"You tried to _kill_ me!" Kyle shouted.

"Now, now, let's not jump to conclusions, Kyle." Ms. Cartman said.

"Are you fucking _kidding_ me?!" Kyle shouted. "I'm lucky I got out alive! Cartman is insane! He has a blood lust all of the sudden with Stan and me! And I can tell you why!"

No one said a word as they willed Kyle to continue. "Stan is finally happy with his feelings towards me, he's starting to accept them and Cartman is fucking it all up! Now Stan has told me he considers drinking again because the pain is so bad he doesn't know how else to dull it!"

Stan shifted in his bed, his face feeling hot. _Kyle, just shut the fuck up, please._

"I was trying to protect Stan when you kicked him down! I was defending myself, so I stabbed you!" Kyle pointed a shaky finger at Cartman from across the room. "Cartman needs to be watched so he doesn't do this kind of thing again!"

"They already told us they won't press any criminal charges on Eric." Ms. Cartman explained.

"Why?! He should be charged with breaking and entering, along with assault!"

"He's too young to be prosecuted."

"Bull shit!" Kyle shouted.

* * *

Kyle sat with Stan at his bedside while Stan slept, unsoundly. He tried to toss and turn onto his side but groaned every time he tried to do so.

"Fuck it…" Stan cursed. "Just fuck it!"

Kyle jolted awake. "Stan?"

"I am so fucking done with everything, Kyle."

"W-what?"

"Can things just go right for once?"

Kyle sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"Kyle…"

"Y-yes Stan?"

"I'm sorry I got you into this mess."

"It's not your fault, you-" Kyle began, but Stan cut him off.

"If I would have never told you my feelings toward you, this would have never happened. None of this. I've caused you a lot of hell and grief because I decided to come clean."

"Stan-"

"It's my fault." Stan rolled onto his good side, facing away from Kyle. Kyle thought he heard him sniffle. "My fault." Stan's voice was shaky.

"Look at me, Stan."

It took Stan a few moments to sit up, wincing, looking at Kyle with bleary eyes.

"It's not your fault." Kyle repeated, whispering.


	22. Chapter 22

**hey guys. I'm back. Had some writers block over the last few days, sorry that this one is so short. Working on a new South Park fanfiction as well, so this one will be (sadly) ending soon. I'm hoping to pull out a few maybe a couple more chapters out of this one (With a good fluffy cute Style ending), I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I liked writing it. **

* * *

Ch 22

It was four weeks past, Stan had gotten out of the hospital three weeks earlier, Cartman a day after he was admitted. Stan's broken ribs still had time to heal. Kyle noticed that Stan was quite restless; he would look over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure Cartman wasn't there, or to take precautions and make sure no one was there to harm him. Stan had to go to the school nurse every day, twice a day, when he was at school. Kyle couldn't get Stan to quit blaming himself for everything. Some days Stan would show up to school with his hair in disarray under his hat and his coat buttoned the wrong way. Kyle was at a loss.

Soon Stan had to become homeschooled for the time being. Cartman was bothering him even more now, and the previous day, had backed him into a corner and threatened to punch him when Mr. Mackey saw the commotion and stopped the violence before it had happened. Kyle promised himself that if he was there to see that, he would have beat Cartman to a bloody pulp.

There was a knock at Stan's door. Stan dropped his pencil on the desk, eyes wide, shuffling papers into his desk drawer, hands trembling. "Who is it? What do you want?" his voice was shaky.

"It's Kyle."

"O-oh, uhh, come in." Stan took a double take to make sure the voice belonged to who they said they were. Kyle opened the door and waited for Stan to motion him inside.

"I miss you at school, dude." Kyle began hesitantly as he walked up to the desk were Stan was sitting.

"I don't miss it there." Stan replied sourly. He shifted the icepack that was against his side. "At all."

Kyle tried to change the subject. "D-do you want to go to the movies with me? Remember when we said we would go soon?"

Memories of Cartman ganging up on him in the alley flashed in Stan's mind. "No thanks." Stan began scribbling down homework answers on the sheet that was left on his desk.

"Please?"

"No, Kyle."

"Do you want to go to the mall instead?"

After a few moments of silence, Stan reluctantly accommodated. "…Alright."

* * *

The two strolled through the mall. Stan was looking over his shoulder every few seconds. Kyle wanted so badly to hold Stan's hand. He felt the tension in the air around Stan. He didn't want to bother him. He seemed preoccupied.

"Stan, you alright?" Kyle asked uncertainly. Stan nodded. He didn't seem ok. Kyle reached for Stan's hand. Stan tensed. His hand was trembling, his gaze straight forward.

"W-what is he doing here?" Stan said suddenly, fear evident in his voice.

"Who, Stan?"

"_Him_." Stan pointed toward the food court. Stan's body tensed. "Let go of my hand."

Kyle pulled away and looked towards where Stan was pointing. Cartman was sitting at one of the tables with a smug look on his face. Kyle approached him as Stan watched from afar.

"What the fuck are you doing here? Were you following us?"

Cartman stood up. "Just felt like coming to the mall, _Kyle. _What's the big deal?"

"You _were_ following us."

"And?"

Kyle's expression contorted into a mix of anger and frustration. "Leave us alone! Stan had to withdraw from school because of you!"

"Oh, that's where he's been." Cartman crossed his arms.

"Why won't you just lay off?!" Kyle shoved Cartman as he stumbled backwards, knocking down a chair in the process. All eyes shifted to the two boys. "Just fuck off!" Kyle ignored the interested gazes.

"You're, right, you're right. I _should_ lay off. But I don't _want_ to. Because my life is dedicated to making _yours _miserable. And when Stan hurts, _you_ hurt. When he suffers, _you_ suffer."

Kyle balled his hands into fists. "How you didn't get prosecuted is beyond me. You're insane."

"_You're_ the one who stabbed me." Cartman smirked, uncrossing his arms. "_You _should be locked up."

"Self-defense, asshole."

"Whatever."

"I don't have time for this," Kyle growled, turning back to Stan, who was standing far away from the two with a disturbed look on his face. "We're leaving."

"Watch your back, Kyle." Cartman called as Kyle walked away. "That would be the best idea."

* * *

"No, Kyle, I'm never going out again."

"Stan, please… I'll make sure nothing happens to you."

Stan slammed his pencil down on the desk angrily. "No!" it broke and splintered into pieces. Kyle flinched. "I'm not going out anymore! It's nothing but trouble!"

Stan moved to the bed and sat down, hiding his face in his hands. Kyle frowned and moved to him, sitting next to him, and patted his back.

"I'm sick of Cartman too, but we have to get through this. Together." Kyle grabbed Stan's hand. He didn't fight it this time. Kyle felt Stan's hand relax in his own. "We have to." Kyle leaned into Stan's shoulder and closed his eyes.

"I feel like our relationship isn't going anywhere, Kyle." Stan said after a few moments. There was a hint of worry in his voice.

Kyle's heart dropped. "What do you mean, Stan?"

"I-I mean, do we have a relationship?"

"If you want it to be."

"I-I just never knew if it was official or not."

"I didn't want it to be official until you were ready, Stan."

"I've been ready, Kyle."

"Then it's official."

"The question is, is this what you want?"

"Huh?"

"Do _you _want to be in a relationship with me, Kyle?"

Kyle nodded. "Yes, Stan."

_I don't believe you._

"G-great."

"You seem uncertain." Kyle shifted in his spot on the bed.

"I'm fine." _Maybe in time he will realize where his feelings lie. And he'll learn not to do things just to please me._

"Look at me, Stan." Kyle hesitated, and before Stan could speak again, he felt Kyle's lips brush up against his own. It felt uncomfortable and forced on Kyle's part. Kyle pulled away. "I-I like you a lot. In a deeper way. Really, I do." Kyle looked down, unable to speak for several seconds. His face felt hot. _What am I doing?_

"What do people even do when they like each other more than just friends?" Kyle scooted closer. Stan didn't speak. He was still trying to recover from Kyle's closer contact.

"I-I don't know." Stan finally said. "Go out together? Hold hands, talk, hug, uhhh… cuddle?" Stan whispered the last word. "Like the one time we watched the scary movie together and you clung to me? That was fun…" Stan's face was burning now.

"Your face is red, Stan."

"Huh?"

"I said your face is red."

"O-oh."

Kyle's phone began to ring. He fished it out of his pocket and pressed the answer button. "Hello? Oh… alright. Be there in a few minutes." He hung up.

"Who was that?"

"My parents. I have to go home now." Kyle frowned.

"O-oh. Will I see you later?"

"Yeah, of course, dude."

* * *

Stan sat on his bed, contemplating. _It's all my fault. If I never told Kyle my feelings, none of this would have happened. _He shifted his icepack on his side. The guilt swirled in his mind. _I mean, the way I always acted towards him suggested something, but… _Stan buried his face in his hands. _I never wanted him to know, not like this._

Stan's phone began to ring. He grabbed it from his bedside table. "Hello?"

"_**Hey, dude."**_It was Kyle.

"Oh, Hey."

"_**How are you?"**_

Stan tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "Fine. Just about to go to bed."

"_**Oh. I'll let you go then."**_

"No! I-I mean… please… I need someone to talk to right now."

"_**Alright, dude, I'm here for you."**_


	23. Chapter 23

**Hey guys, well this is it. [tear] Last chapter. I loved writing this, and I hope it's not a cheesy-as-hell ending, I thank you all for staying with me, I'm working on a new South Park fanfiction as of now, and I hope you all like it as much as this one. sorry for it being so short, I'm terrible at endings, lol.**

* * *

Ch 23

"_**What's up, dude?" **_Kyle's voice was laced with worry.

"I'm just…" Stan spun around in his desk chair a few times. He felt dizzy after a few spins and stopped. "I just want to talk."

"_**Oh… alright."**_

"I wish you were, uhh…" Stan started. "…Here to hold my hand right now." His face felt hot.

There was a pause on the other end before Kyle spoke. _**"I wish I was there too, Stan."**_

"We need to do more things together," Stan began again. "You know, like…" Stan spun around in his chair again, thinking of a way he could progress his sentence.

"_**Romantic things?" **_Kyle finished for him.

"If romantic means going to Casa Bonita together today, then yeah, sure." Stan laughed, but stopped short with a groan when his side surged with pain.

"_**You alright, dude?" **_Kyle's voice was laced with worry.

Stan had to catch his breath before he could speak again. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little pain, is all."

"_**A-alright." **_

There was a knock at the door. Stan spun around in his chair to see his mother standing in the threshold, a bothered look on her face. Stan frowned. "Yeah, mom?"

"Stanley, we need to talk. Come downstairs, please."

"Oh… okay. Let me get off the phone with Kyle first."

"Alright, sweetie." Sharon frowned.

Stan said his goodbye and hung up the phone. He followed his mother downstairs and to the dining room table. "What's up?"

"We need to talk about Kyle." Stan's mother sat down.

"K-Kyle? Why?"

"Stanley, you know my feelings about this whole… relationship thing with Kyle. I don't think it's right."

Stan's face felt hot. _Fuck._

"I don't want you to be in a relationship with him."

"W-why not?"

"Because it's wrong, Stanley."

"Who are you to say that?" Stan's hands formed into fists. "So what if I like him in a deeper way! I don't care what you think, mom!"

"I am your mother, and you will listen to me. That's final."

"Fuck you!"

"STANLEY!"

"No! I don't have to sit here and listen to this!" tears threatened to roll down Stan's cheeks. "I like him a lot, and you can't take that away from me! I learned that I can't change this about myself! Even if I tried so hard to, and even if I wanted to! I learned to accept it, and you need to, too!" Stan got up and rushed to his room, slamming the door.

* * *

"Stan, can you tell me about the last few weeks?" Dr. Burg pushed his glasses from the bridge of his nose and looked up from his clipboard notes. It was a day past since the fight with Stan's mother, and the two hadn't spoken since, not even on the car ride to the clinic.

"Well… my mother and I had a fight yesterday. She doesn't like that I like Kyle in a deeper way than just a friend." Stan answered absently. "She told me that yesterday and I got combative. She didn't like that very much."

"Hmmm…."

"Yeah."

"What did she say, Stan?"

"She said she didn't like me being with Kyle and that it was wrong."

"Let me tell you something: love who you love, Stan. Don't listen to her. I know you are supposed to listen to your mother on certain things, but this… this is different."

"I know. I knew you were going to say something like that."

"Well, anything else you need to talk about? Any other updates? This is our last session."

"No, I think that's it." Stan got up and shook Dr. Burg's hand. "Thanks… thanks for your help."

"You're welcome, Stan."

* * *

A week and a half passed, and Stan's ribs had finally healed. His relationship with his mother healed along with it, and she was slowly learning to deal with her son's love for his best friend.

"My mom finally understands our liking for each other, Kyle." Stan and Kyle walked down the halls of the elementary school, hand in hand. Stan could finally return back to school. Cartman had been suspended for bullying Stan, and after that, his torture towards Stan had finally subsided. The two rarely saw Cartman anymore. No word from him at all in the past week. "I… I can finally be worry free." Stan finished.

"I'm glad, Stan. I'm glad things worked out for you. For us." Kyle squeezed Stan's hand. Stan was finally able to accept that he couldn't change. He was happy with himself now. He was happy with Kyle. Everything fell into place. No more addictions, no more regret or guilt. Kyle finally realized his feelings for Stan as well. He was happy that Stan was finally happy. And he was happy with Stan. Things worked out for the best. No more torture from Cartman, no more staring eyes. Everyone at school knew Kyle and Stan were a couple now, and everyone accepted it. And there would be more snowy nights and football games to come, and maybe more secrets to be shared.


End file.
